


Give an Inch, Take Infinity

by krystalreverb



Category: Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: Cross-Posted on Tumblr, M/M, Sorta slowburn, but not really?, just warning you, oh i love it when these characters hurt, ok so full notes in the fic, there are several sex scenes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-07
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2020-06-24 05:55:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 46,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19717570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/krystalreverb/pseuds/krystalreverb
Summary: Xander is expected to dance at his coronation ball. Xander has two left feet. Laslow must attempt to correct this before the coronation ball. The ball is a mere month away. Does Laslow have the skill required to make Xander not look like a fool at his own ball? It doesn't help that neither of their mental health situations after the war aren't exactly in perfect condition, what with the death of Xander's father and Laslow's wife, and all those they lost in wartime. Also, what's this growing warmth inside them that's only growing stronger as the ball comes closer and closer?





	Give an Inch, Take Infinity

**Author's Note:**

> HERE WE GO AGAIN LADIES AND GENTLEBUTTS
> 
> Takes place after Conquest if only because I wanted to use Garon's gross drippy oozy form from Conquest, so pretend Hoshido has Hinoka on the throne and pretend Corrin is just sorta.... hanging around castle krakenburg eating pizza and smooching silas i guess? 
> 
> Ok so backstory Laslow married Azura in the war but as we all know Azura is toast after the war (what with the dissolving into mist thing) so Soleil and Shigure live somewhere in Windmire doing their thing but Laslow still lives at the castle, Laslow is actually super sad about her death 
> 
> because the focus is on xanlow though it's kinda  
> well, he gets over it  
> Chrom!Inigo because it's my lifeblood, Odin's father is Lon'qu and Selena's father is Henry because I fuckin love Henry
> 
> siegbert doesn't exist because xander never got married in the war, so soleil and shigure are adults but siegbert doesn't exist 
> 
> leo married nyx that's why forrest exists
> 
> neither odin nor selena got married in the war so no ophelia and no insert other kid here
> 
> more casually intimate and casually affectionate Xander because it's my lifeblood
> 
> in the fic he only really shows it to laslow but its my headcanon he's sweet and huggy and affectionate with them both
> 
> ok so headcanons: shigure is aro/ace and maybe nonbinary and a total millennial but doesn't really have an idea of what that means and also his mom just died in war so he's kinda a little moody and confused and angry and angsty but he gets it together in the end, but for the first mmm vague chunk of the fic he's really angsty and angry and needs an outlet for his stress and takes out his aggression on laslow because daddy issues 
> 
> soleil and shigure have an okayish relationship but shigure and laslow don't get along so soleil is kinda stuck in the middle 
> 
> because I love it when these characters hurt because I am awful 
> 
> Ylissean = French, Feroxi = Spanish, Nohrian = German because I'm very lazy
> 
> i'm also 27 and still in my songfic phase so please bear with me on these things I love you all so much
> 
> this is basically Xanlow: The Musical 
> 
> I won't and can't list all the songs I used, because they're liable to change at any time and I'm too lazy but all I want is to not be sued, please i work for minimum wage I don't have much in this world
> 
> I'm aware that this could likely have been broken up into multiple chapters, and that one chapter of this nonsense is exhausting, but I have a very, shall we say, strange writing pattern that doesn't work to break up into chapters I'm so sorry I know this is long please bear with it

**Give an Inch, Take Infinity**

“Alright, milord, put your left hand here.... yes, right like that, and your right hand in mine, there we are. Now one, two, three, one, two, three— _aaagh!”_ Laslow yelped as his foot was stepped on for the dozenth time that day.

“Sorry.” Xander muttered, flushing again. “Laslow, this is clearly useless. I've done nothing but step on your feet and trip over myself for the last three hours. This is humiliating.”

“Nonsense. You took ten whole minutes to step on my foot that time. You're getting better.” Laslow said quickly, taking his lord's arms up again. Xander stepped back and dropped his arms.

“I need to take a break, Laslow. This is exhausting.” Xander sounded more defeated by this than any of the sticky situations they ended up in during the war. Xander dropped down inelegantly to sit on the floor of the music hall, holding his head in his hands. Laslow bit his lip and knelt down to eye level with him.

“I understand, milord. Really, I do. Let me fetch some water for us, and we'll start again soon. I'm terribly sorry, milord, but as important as this is, I can't let you off scot-free.”

“I know. You're only doing what I asked, and it's quite literally your job to do what it is I ask of you.” Xander sighed. “Just.... give me a few minutes to catch my breath.”

Laslow nodded quietly and trotted off, fetching a glass of water for his lord. When he returned, Xander was sitting on the music hall's main stage, with his legs dangling off the edge. He was staring off into space, looking very distraught. Laslow tapped him gently on the knee to get his attention, and Xander looked down. Laslow held up the glass, and Xander took it. Laslow climbed up onto the stage next to him.

“I know that look in your eye. You never had a real chance to grieve.” Laslow said softly. “I've seen that look before. Milord, I want you to know that it's alright to let yourself feel. You're always so.... bottled up.”

Xander sunk his head into his hands and sighed. “I have to be, Laslow. I'm about to be coronated as King. A King can't spend his days feeling and grieving. A King has to be strong and lead his people.”

“I know. Believe me, I know. And I'm here for you, every step of the way, my lord. But you need to feel sometimes, otherwise it's going to drive you mad. So, talk to me. What's wrong?” Laslow asked, placing his hand on Xander's forearm.

“My father is _dead,_ Laslow.” Xander said bluntly. “Dead by our own hands, and how am I meant to cope with that? I led a genocide, forced to fight or die, and now my father, a man I used to trust and love with all my heart, is _dead._ I watched him turn into a ...dripping.... _ooze_ monster and then Corrin struck him down. He's _dead._ My father is _dead._ Apparently, he's _been dead for a while.”_

“Mm, mine too. And my mother. And my wife. And it still hurts, just as much as the day they died. It never goes away. And you didn't deserve to lose him so soon. But what I can do is make it easier for you. I can try, anyway. That's my job, really. To make your life easier. It's a job I've always been proud of.”

Xander looked at Laslow sideways. “It's rare I hear you talk about your past, and I don't think any of us have spoken about Azura since her funeral. Is that true, Laslow? That your father is dead?”

“Yes, it is. But we're not here to talk about me. We're here to get you ready for a ball.” Laslow stood up, and pulled Xander with him. Xander put his glass down on the stage and followed Laslow down onto the main floor to begin again.

“One, two, three. One, two, three.” Laslow counted off as he led Xander around the room. “There we are. Now you lead. One, two, three. Yes, step forward just as I step back... there we are.”

“It's difficult to do this _backwards_.” Xander grumbled as Laslow took the lead position again to demonstrate.

“You should try it in heels.” Laslow said simply. “And before you ask, yes. I've done this in heels.”

“Do they make high heels in men's sizes?” Xander asked with a bit of a smile as Laslow easily slid back into a following position.

“I'm _foreign._ I'm smaller than most of you. You Nohrians are _giants,_ it's not fair. Technically, I'm wearing women's boots right now.” Laslow replied, gesturing down at his feet. “Specifically, an old pair of your sister's that she was going to throw out. My old boots had holes in them and had outlived their usefulness, but these ones were in decent shape and still had a few years left. I inquired as to where they came from and discovered Lady Camilla had put them out with the garbage. I... simply took them. I asked her, and she said I could have them if I wanted them. Therefore, I threw out my old boots instead and have been wearing these ones ever since.” he explained.

“Huh. I never would have figured you and my sister having a similar shoe size.” Xander said. It seemed, the less he was focusing on his dancing, the better he was doing. He hadn't stepped on Laslow yet, anyway.

“The exact same shoe size, actually. It's almost scary. I.... have a bit of an arrangement with Lady Camilla. Don't give me that look, it's nothing untoward. Did you think me so cold? I'm still reeling from the curse that disintegrated my wife before mine and my children's eyes; I'm not about to go propositioning anyone. But I sometimes take on little dancing gigs in the pubs around town, just to make a little extra spending money. Not that you don't pay me quite enough, of course, but sometimes I like to live a little expensive and asking for a raise so I can buy myself nice things is absurd. You pay me plenty enough to live and even thrive on. And yet, I do believe a man needs to buy himself expensive things every once in a while. Just for a taste of luxury in an otherwise mundane existence, especially after such a war. But if you want expensive things, you must earn them, and so I work for my keep. My last big purchase was an absinthe fountain; I'll have to set it up one of these days and host a little party for us all.” Laslow chuckled. “Anyway, this is a roundabout way of saying I borrow your sister's clothing and shoes often, and she's perfectly fine with it. I always ask first, and I always respect if there is a specific article of clothing she does not want me to take. I always return anything I borrow in the exact condition I received it in, and I wouldn't dare take on anything dangerous or messy wearing someone else's clothing.”

“That's actually quite interesting. I've always known my sister to be very protective of her belongings. Then again, she does have a tendency to use people as living dress-up dolls, so I suppose she could just be letting you play in her closet. Does she ever give you advice?”

“All the time. She even suggested I dye my hair.” Laslow shook his head. “I just don't think blue would suit me.” he said vaguely, a little dully.

“I think it would. It would complement your eyes, I think.” Xander said, a little amused. “I've just noticed I haven't stepped on you yet.”

“Yes, I know! You're doing so well!” Laslow said brightly, with a winning smile. He turned the music off. “I think you've earned a break, milord. Let's go get some tea and we'll talk some more, yes?”

“...Yes.” Xander followed behind Laslow.

After tea was served and Xander was sitting in his study positioned by his desk, with Laslow sitting on the sofa opposite, Xander looked up to speak.

“Laslow, how did you cope with the death of your father?”

Laslow tilted his head back and forth, thinking about the question. “I suppose I fought in his name, took up his mantle and began where he left off. I suppose it made me feel as though I were a part of something bigger than myself, and that helped. My sister being there by my side helped as well; she was closer to Father than I was, and her insight was especially helpful, especially after Mother died. I suppose I simply moved on, content in the knowledge that I was doing everything in my power to honor his name and his memory. My father was a great, great man. His name was revered in our home country, he was a warrior of exquisite skill and had a sense of justice that reached even the heavens with his prayers for peace, and those prayers helped us win a terrible war that took so, _so_ many lives.”

Xander processed that for a long moment. “How am I meant to honor his memory when he was a monster?” He asked in a small voice, almost defeated. “My father wasn't an honest, just man. He was trying to destroy everything I knew and loved. How am I meant to honor him?”

“You don't. You take his mistakes, his misdeeds, and you don't do them. You learn from the sins of your father. You honor your country over a monster. I know he was your father, but really, was he any sort of father at all?” Laslow asked.

“He used to be!” Xander insisted. “When I was young... he was stern, but fair. He was a just ruler. And then my mother died. And he slowly changed. First he married Azura's mother, that witch, Arete.... then he started taking mistresses, and my siblings were all born of those mistresses. Somewhere in between marrying Arete and my sister Camilla being born, I think that's when he.... I mean, that's when he truly started to become cruel and lifeless.” Xander said. “I thought it was grief, that he'd gone mad with grief, and tried to do everything I could, to be the perfect son, to make him _happy,_ but his demands got more and more stringent with each passing day....” Xander began to breathe heavily, his eyes wild. Laslow knew that look in his eye. These memories were torturing Xander. Xander's heart began to beat too fast, his breathing becoming shallow and rapid. The room began to swim before his eyes, his eyes rolling back as he tried to make sense of the wild thoughts racing through his brain. _It's my fault, I am to blame, there were signs I ignored, I am an ignorant fool, how could I possibly become a King? Oh, gods above, I'm going to become a King. Their expectations are overwhelming.... gods, please help me! Why am I so weak? I'm a fool, I'm weak, I'm stupid, I should be dead in their place, oh gods why is the room spinning? Gods, help me!_

“Milord, milord, milord. Look at me, look at me. Look into my eyes. Listen to my voice.” Laslow said slowly, clearly, standing up and taking Xander's face into his hands. Xander's eyes were wild, fearful, and confused. What was happening? Why was the room spinning? Why was fear bubbling so deeply within him, with no immediate threat present? Laslow forced him to maintain eye contact, the retainer boring holes into his lord's eyes with his own, and Xander could see some strange, faint outline of _something_ clouding over Laslow's right eye.... “His death was not your fault. His downfall was not your fault. You are not to blame in this. You aren't somehow wrong, or stupid for not noticing what had happened to him. There was nothing you could have done even if you _had_ noticed. Look at me. Listen to my voice, Lord Xander. Breathe. One, two, three.... one, two three. Now out, one, two, three.... one, two, three... there we are.”

Laslow led Xander through a series of breathing exercises. Xander's breathing was rapid, but slowed down as Laslow led him through the exercises.

Slowly, Xander calmed down, and Laslow could drop his hands. “What.... was that?” Xander asked. “I felt as though the walls were closing in around me....”

“You were having a panic attack.” Laslow said, backing away a few steps. “I used to have them all the time, especially just after my mother died. They've been coming back since Azura died, but I've been managing them using coping techniques I learned from a book in the library. One of them involves just staring at yourself in the mirror and telling yourself out loud the opposite of whatever your brain is telling you. I'll bet you were blaming yourself for your father's death, which is why I tried to emphasize that his death was not, and will never be your fault.” He said softly. Xander nodded slightly, a little ashamed of himself, “Are you alright now, my lord?” Laslow finished.

“....Yes. Yes, I think I will be. Thank you, Laslow.”

Laslow picked up the teapot and began putting it away. “I think it's about time you got some rest, Lord Xander. We start with your dance lessons again tomorrow, so please be prompt. Peri will be in to wake you just after dawn.”

“Yes, Mother.” Xander drawled sarcastically, rolling his eyes. Laslow chuckled.

“It's my job, milord. Get some rest. And don't do any of that awful paperwork tonight, I'll have Peri take care of it in the morning. Her handwriting is better than mine.”

“You also can't write at all, Laslow.” Xander reminded him.

“I can write, I just can't write in Nohrian. I can write in Common just fine.” Laslow corrected. “As well as my native languages. I was actually raised trilingual. Nohrian just isn't one of the three and I'm still learning.” Laslow shrugged. “Sleep, milord. Peri will wake you.”

Laslow trotted away, leaving Xander staring at the ceiling. His veins were still thrumming with adrenaline and fear. Xander had never felt so helpless, so weak. Laslow was _leaving._ Xander suddenly was struck with a stab of icy fear that he would panic again, only this time Laslow wouldn't be there to calm him down. Just as Laslow shut the door behind him, Xander suddenly blurted, “Wait!”

Laslow opened the door again and stepped back in. “Is there something else you needed, Lord Xander?”

“.....No. I'm sorry, Laslow. You're dismissed. Go back to your quarters.” Xander felt even more shame. He was very close to asking Laslow to _stay._ In fact, there was some small part of him that desperately hoped Laslow would disobey the order to leave. And that small part swelled within him when Laslow did not make to move, and instead stayed perfectly still inside the room. Still, he had just disobeyed a direct order. “You're _dismissed,_ Laslow.” Xander said a bit more slowly, as if Laslow hadn't heard him.

“Milord.... you know I'm always happy to serve.” Laslow said more gently, a hint of a smile on his lips. “Anything you need.... I will provide.”

Xander shook his head. “No... No, I'm fine. You're _dismissed,_ I'm _fine._ ”

“I think it's quite clear you are not, or you would not have asked me to wait. Did you... did you want me to stay, tonight? I could sleep on the sofa, if you want.”

Xander's face flushed and he looked humiliated as he pawed at the bedsheets helplessly, speechless. It had come to this. Laslow smiled a soft, serene and gentle smile.

“Or perhaps you need me in bed with you? I'm happy to serve.” He suggested softly. “Use me as you see fit, my lord.”

Xander cast his eyes away. Laslow shut the door, stripped off his doublet, armor, and gloves, leaving him in his trousers and a sleeveless undershirt. He climbed into bed alongside Xander and immediately found himself the subject of a tight embrace. He hushed Xander quietly and let himself be enveloped. “I'm here, milord. I'm here.”

“I feel so weak..... I feel such shame.” Xander admitted. “How can I lead my people if I cower beneath my blankets at night, fearful of my own mind?”

“It's not weakness or shameful to need someone in the night, milord. You've lost so much. What you're feeling is _normal_ and just fine. You're not weak. You're the strongest man I've ever met. You've lived through such atrocity.... sleep now. I'm here. I won't be going away. I am your loyal servant, and I will watch over you.”

With Laslow in his arms, Xander was able to sleep, though it was a fitful sleep. When he awoke, Laslow was there, still sleeping in his arms. It was just before dawn. _He's beautiful...._

Xander shook himself out of his thoughts, and checked the moon out his window to determine the time. It was getting late in the morning. _Shit._ They'd overslept.

“Laslow.” Xander shook Laslow awake gently. “Peri will be in soon.”

Laslow woke up groggily, rubbing his eyes. “Ugh.” he made a noise that he hoped conveyed his distaste at being woken up so rudely. He sat up straight like a zombie, and Xander took a good look at him. Laslow had a layer of very deep navy stubble over his chin and jawline and looked as though he'd been run through the wringer. His hair was sticking up and there was no coffee in his blood yet. His eyes had red rings around them and he had dark bags underneath. _So this is the true Laslow._ Laslow yawned widely, stretched out his limbs, and got out of bed to start preparing some morning coffee. Xander watched him work with a kind of tired fascination at the motion of his body, almost learning by observation about how to make coffee. Laslow moved in such a graceful, flowing way; it drew Xander's eye to watch him move and work. And he'd caught him dancing in the back courtyard more than once, his body moving and twirling almost of it's own accord. It was honestly... _beautiful._ Xander... Xander found Laslow to be a beautiful man. He would likely never admit that out loud.

“Do you always get up so easily?” Xander asked.

“It's my job.” Laslow replied simply, still half-asleep. “Besides. The coffee won't get made if I don't get up and make it, so why stay in bed when.... coffee?” Laslow held up the scoop full of coffee grounds he was putting in the pot to brew, wiggling it slightly for emphasis. A small handful of the grounds shook themselves out of the scoop and scattered on the floor. Xander didn't seem to notice.

“Mmm. Fair enough. I don't know how to make coffee. I was never taught.” Xander replied. “Sometimes the pros of being royalty come with some very strange cons. Advanced military strategy I was taught. I can play a mean game of chess, but can I brew coffee?” Xander moved his hands up and down to emphasize the balance of skills. It seemed he was still half-asleep as well, and beginning to ramble, his shell of royalty and elegance beginning to crack. Here, he was not Xander, the future King. He was Xander, a man who had just woken up in his best friend's arms and now said friend was making coffee in a teapot left over from the night before.

“Exactly. It won't get done if I don't do it now.”

By the time Peri came in, Laslow was fully dressed again and he and Xander were drinking coffee, chatting amiably.

“Miloooooord! Wakey wakey eggs and bakey, milord! Time to dance! Oh, hi Lazzy! Did you come to wake Milord up too?”

Laslow chuckled. “Good morning. Yes, I woke up early today and decided to do your job for you. Don't fret. I'll have Lord Xander in the music hall soon.”

“Okay! If you need Peri, don't forget to call for Peri! Peri is always willing to help! Bye-bye!” Peri turned and trotted out again, humming nonsensically to herself, suspecting nothing. Laslow breathed out a sigh of relief and took a long sip of his coffee.

“That was close. Luckily she's about as observant as a brick wall.” he commented blithely. He ran his hand over his chin. “Ugh. Would you mind terribly if I used your washroom, my lord? I desperately need a shower and a shave. I haven't slept next to another human being since... well, it's been a while.” The implication was unspoken.

“Go right ahead. There's a spare razor under the sink.” Xander gestured to his private bathroom off of his quarters with his hand.

“Thank you, milord, you're a gentleman and a scholar.” Laslow slipped into the washroom and Xander reached over to pour himself another cup of coffee. The sound of his private shower turning on and Laslow groaning in tired relief made Xander snort in amusement as he sipped from his cup. Laslow would emerge about half an hour later, clean-shaven and running his fingers through his wet hair to attempt to style it to look like a normal head of hair.

“Sit.” Xander ordered, and pulled out his own hairbrush and began brushing out Laslow's tangled, wet hair. Finally, Laslow looked presentable. Now it was Xander's turn.

It was about midday by the time they made it to the music hall. Laslow turned the record player on, put a record in it, and set the needle. Soft classical music began to play. “Hmm. No wonder you can't get anywhere, milord. This music is simply awful. It has no rhythm at all. Let's try something else.” Laslow got rid of that record, and put a different one on. Different, more percussion-heavy music began playing.

“That's better. Move your feet to the beat.” He took up Xander's arms and began to move him gently to the music. Xander managed to follow along for the most part, though he couldn't help but notice Laslow kept leading.

“Do you even know how to follow, or do you intend to lead me around at my own ball?” Xander asked with a half a smile. Laslow laughed out loud. _His laughter is beautiful._

“I have to teach you how to move around first, silly! If you don't know the actual steps, you can't even hope to lead someone else through them. Really, it's my feet you should be watching, not your own.”

Xander began to piece it together in his head as the dance continued. He let his mind wander. As he watched Laslow's feet move, he realized that yes, those were in fact an old pair of Camilla's shoes, complete with the chunky heel. Huh. Xander wasn't aware Camilla owned anything that wasn't a stiletto. Still, they were definitely Camilla's boots, and not originally Laslow's.

Xander almost didn't notice when Laslow's hand went to his hip to gently move him from side to side. “Put your hips into it a bit, milord. You're moving like one of those horrible Hoshidan clockwork things with the saws. You remember. The automatons, or whatever it is they called them.”

Xander grunted out an acknowledgment and moved his body along with Laslow's gentle hands. To an outsider, it would look as though they were slow-dancing together. Xander soon got the hang of the sway of his hips and Laslow removed his hand.

“There you are. You're doing much better.” Laslow said. “Now take that sway and bring it down through your feet. Like this.” Laslow demonstrated slowly, moving Xander's body to match his own. “Good, good. One, two, three... one, two, three.... now step back, yes, now I'm going to spin you, and don't let go of my hand, okay?”

Laslow spun Xander around in a circle, and Xander couldn't find his footing to stop spinning, and ended up tripping and falling flat on top of Laslow like a sack of bricks, sending them both to the floor. Luckily Xander regained his composure just in time to wedge his hand underneath Laslow's head to prevent his retainer from cracking his skull open on the stone castle floors. “I'm sorry, Laslow.” Xander huffed, face turning red as he picked them both up off the ground.

Laslow got up shakily, the wind having been knocked out of him by having roughly 280 pounds of solid muscle landing directly on top of his chest. “Oof.... no.... _koff--_ no worries, Milord! We'll just try again, we can always try again. Besides, nobody but me is here; I'm the only one that saw that, and I'm not saying a word.” Laslow smiled. “Let's try that again. I'm going to move you to the music, and then I'm going to spin you again. This time, stop yourself from doing a second rotation, that's what caused you to trip. Plant your feet between mine when you stop spinning and I can help you stop. Like this.” Laslow tried the spin again, and this time he blocked Xander's feet from moving too far with his own, and Xander came to a gentle stop before he fell, right back into Laslow's waiting arms. A perfect spin.

“Ah. I see. Lean on your leader. He is there to help you.” Xander noted. “Thank you, Laslow, for taking the time to help me.”

Laslow smiled. _Pure, radiant beauty...._ “Milord, you're not just my boss and a future King, but you're my dearest friend. How could I possibly refuse?” He danced Xander around again. “Now, let's run through the entire dance one more time, and then I'll teach you how to lead. How does that sound? We'll run through a variety of dances before the ball, so you won't be caught off-guard by anything.”

“That sounds like a fine plan, Laslow. I look forward to your curriculum.” Xander replied. “Er... what exactly is the dance we're doing right now?”

“Oh, this is just a basic waltz. It's your typical high-society ball fare. I'm going to teach you a few faster-paced dances as well. A good salsa, perhaps even a merengue, if we're feeling particularly spicy. Which, I might be, depending on the crowd the ball brings.”

“That's right, you're actually performing at my ball, aren't you?” Xander said. “I really appreciate you doing that. I know you don't like to perform for crowds, and you've expressed your stage fright in the past. I know you're really putting a lot of pressure on yourself. You must know how appreciative I am.”

Laslow shrugged. “First of all, it's the least I can do for you. I have a background in music and I'd like to be able to use it. Besides, I have my ways of squashing stage fright. Don't worry. My performance will be one that shakes the audience to its core. I've even written original scores to play, isn't that nice? I'm not just _an_ entertainer that night, milord. I am _the_ entertainer, my original work _is_ the soundtrack for the ball. I've spent _months_ writing music. Since the war ended, and the council approached me on the music for your coronation.”

“You wrote music yourself? Laslow, I'm impressed. Would you perform something of it now? For me?” Xander asked. “I won't tell anyone. And you have my word I'll be just as much in awe of it as I will be now.”

Laslow grinned. “You know what? I think I just might. You've caught me dancing in the back courtyard more than once, you deserve to see what it looks like all put together. Give me about an hour. I'll set up the stage and an outfit and I'll show you what a finished solo dance looks like. I hope you're ready to be amazed!” Laslow laughed and clambered up onto the stage to disappear behind it.

Xander found a chair in a supply closet and plopped it down, sitting down to watch the show. He called for a maid to bring him a pot of tea and his favorite texts on military strategy to pass the time while he waited for Laslow to be ready to perform. The maid brought him an entire table with the help of another castle butler, and even served him lunch with his midafternoon tea and brought him his favorite texts as promised.

“Thank you. You are dismissed with my highest commendations.” Xander said to the maid with a smile, who bowed deeply at her Lord and left. Xander began to eat his meal and drink his tea.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, strange and fantastic music began to play from behind the stage. When Xander would ask later, he would learn that Laslow had Odin's help in enchanting a separate record player behind the stage to begin playing on it's own. However, for now, Xander watched in awe as Laslow twirled and leapt upon the stage to the music, with a heavy militant drum beat and some sort of screeching instrument that would sound terrible if not mixed with the other instruments in the background. Mixed with those instruments, it sounded lovely, somehow. And the entire time he was dancing, Laslow was also _singing._ Laslow had an impeccable singing voice, and Xander sucked a deep breath in. Both Laslow and Azura had such beautiful singing voices, so why did Soleil sound like a rusty door hinge? Xander supposed it was because Shigure inherited all the talent. Laslow's adult children aside, Xander found himself lost in Laslow's beautiful voice. It was deep and smooth, and Laslow had a rather impressive vocal range, able to hit the high notes with just as much power and emotion as the low notes. The song fell a bit flat without a chorus behind Laslow to give it strength, yet, somehow, Laslow almost did not need one. Xander could have likened him to an angel of music, flitting across the stage as if there were wings on his shoulders.

_Your lips feel warm to the touch, you can bring me back to life.... on the outside, you're a blaze and alive, but you're dead inside!_

Laslow's twirling, powerful interpretive dance was so moving, Xander almost found himself unable to breathe. And by the time it was over, with Laslow falling into a perfect split on the stage with his arms held triumphantly in the air, waiting for applause, that is when Xander found himself clapping wildly. He was the only audience, yet he gave his own standing ovation.

“That was incredible, Laslow. Absolutely incredible. Will you be performing that at the ball?” Xander asked.

“That's actually.... one of my final performances.... at your ball.” Laslow panted, exhausted from his efforts. He slowly caught his breath, then continued to speak. “I have a few serious ones, a few comedic ones, a bit of this and a little of that, but my most powerful performances are at the end of the night, where they will be on the guests' minds the longest. I actually have a three-act symphonic story as the final section of the performance, all three parts performed by me, with backup, of course. They're not solo acts. But the story aspect of it is what makes it so powerful. It's actually an anti-war message, to showcase Nohr's newfound dedication to peace and understanding, though the message is subtle and hidden under multiple layers of what I like to call 'literal symbolism', it's where the words are meant to be taken both literally and symbolically at the same time... I'm rambling.” Laslow flushed slightly. Instead, Xander smiled.

“Excellent planning skills, Laslow. May I see the rest of your set list?” Xander asked.

“Uhhhhhh..... no.” Laslow said bluntly. “I'll do a couple more dances for you, but the entire set list is a big secret. Mostly because it isn't done yet. I have yet to hear back from several of my performers. I may begin pestering them if they keep skipping rehearsal.”

“Fair enough. I shall wait patiently for the final release.”

Laslow chuckled. “Maybe one more dance for now and then we get back to your lesson, yes? I can't help but think you're just using me to stall time.”

“Can you blame me? I have two left feet, we've been working for nearly a week now and I have made little to no progress. It makes sense that I don't want to do this anymore.” Xander sighed.

“Oh, codswallop. You're doing fine. You're better than some of the people I've tried to teach.” Laslow admitted. “Have you ever seen Odin try to dance? I tell you, he's horrendous.” Laslow flicked his fingers at the record player onstage, which was supposed to activate the magical mechanism that moved the needle and change the song. Unfortunately, it did not. Instead, the record player sputtered and made a quiet creaking noise. Laslow and Xander did not notice.

“Really?” Xander asked, somewhat hopeful.

“Oh, absolutely. Odin dances like a man who's lost both legs. It's like watching a runaway carriage slam into a schoolhouse-- you don't _want_ to see it, but it's just so bad it draws you in. Like a moth to a flame, it's horrible. At the very least, you're capable of using your own knees. I have Odin working on set design and special effects, which is more in his wheelhouse. I can only hope he realizes how important this is. I can't promise anything, though.” Laslow replied, waiting for the music to start. When it didn't, he clicked his tongue in annoyance. “--And he's a useless mage! Odin, you twit, can't you even enchant a bloody music box to play? Useless _dullard_ of a man, I can't believe I.... ugh... Hold on....” Laslow stormed backstage, and the sounds of things rattling and a needle screeching across a record issued from behind the curtain. Finally, the music began, and Xander sat back down in his seat to await another dance. Laslow came swirling in once more, this time in a powerful, percussion-heavy dance that enraptured Xander's attention. It was strong and domineering, a dance that got Laslow's hips moving and his hands swinging to the beat. And once again, Laslow was singing in his capable, even _stunning_ voice.

_Won't wave my white flag, no! This time I won't let go! I'd rather die, than give up the fight!_

Spin, spin, spin, dip, turn, up and down, side-to-side, Laslow moved and danced and Xander was speechless. _He's not human. He's something.... more._

That was it for the day. Laslow was exhausted.

“Does my council expect you to perform all night?” Xander asked, handing Laslow a handkerchief to wipe the sweat from his brow. “That's ludicrous. A person can only dance for so long.”

“No. No, no, no. No! No, no. No. No, I wrote all the music and the entertainment but I have a variety of people helping out with these performances. All very carefully and highly trained by me, of course. I started at the beginning and drilled them until they could sing it in their sleep. I even managed to figure out how to teach Soleil to sing. She's... admittedly still not _good,_ but I have a solution to that, assuming Odin's magic holds up. She's at least passable, and I managed to get her to follow a melody. Turns out the motivating factor was women; apple doesn't fall too far from the tree, I'm afraid.” Laslow muttered the last part reproachfully under his breath. If either of his children had to inherit Laslow's inability to behave himself around women, it _had_ to be his excitable and boisterous daughter.

As it stood, Shigure had never even expressed much of an interest in any gender, focusing more on his art and music, though Laslow had embarrassingly asked him once and Shigure had answered that he had never really thought about it, but that if he had to choose, he would pick women. When pressed further as to why, Shigure had simply shrugged his shoulders, muttered something about “convenience” and gone back to painting. Laslow then stopped prying into his son's affairs. Laslow and Shigure had an uneasy, tense, and bitter relationship; Shigure took Azura's death just as hard as Laslow did, if not worse, and held a bitter resentment towards his father for not doing more to protect his mother. Shigure knew his resentment wasn't logical or based on solid fact but he was still grieving, and grief hits everyone differently. But the fact still remained that Laslow and Shigure did not talk much after the war, and especially after an argument they had had at Azura's funeral, in which Shigure subtly accused Laslow of being a womanizing cheat, and Laslow had responded embarrassingly and regretfully violently. Laslow had been confined to house arrest the next day (though the entire day of Laslow's “punishment” had consisted of Laslow crying pitifully in the corner of Xander's study while Xander sat and comforted him with soft words and awkward pats on the back), and Shigure had packed his things and left the castle. Still, Shigure would be performing at the ball alongside his father. He had agreed after Laslow expressed desperation and had almost begged him to perform. (“Please, for gods' sake, I need one more performer and I know you have talent. It's Lord Xander's coronation ball, I can't be one performer short, it would ruin the entire show, and Lord Xander is counting on me. Can't you please, please get over yourself for five minutes and let me teach you the bloody choreography so I can sleep tonight?” “Oh, alright, alright. I'll report to the castle tomorrow morning. You're _pathetic_ and I feel bad for you.” “Thank you, my son, _thank you.”_ “Mmhmm.”)

“So it's not just you?” Xander breathed a sigh of relief. “I would hate for you to work yourself to death onstage, Laslow. Such a death doesn't suit you.”

“Ah, but death comes to us all in the end, does it not? Nobody gets out of this world alive, and if I had to choose, I'd rather die doing something I loved.” Laslow replied with a sharp grin. “Anyway, I'm soaked through with sweat. I need another shower, and this outfit needs to go in the laundry. I'll wash it myself, it's extremely delicate and I don't trust some of the clumping butlers you have wandering about this place to not ruin it.” Laslow commented as he stood up to go change his clothes. “But we're still practicing tonight! I need you in top form, milord!”

Xander chuckled. “I'd expect nothing less. I would have it that you be as demanding and strict as can be. I'm going to need it.”

Laslow and Xander broke for dinner, deciding to eat together in Xander's chambers so they can discuss their lesson plan. Laslow pulled out a notepad and a pair of Xander's formal boots, and began tracing the sole on each piece of paper. “Alright, milord. I'm going to show you, on paper, where your feet should be for every single step of the waltz from beginning to end. I'm going to label each step with numbers, and I'm going to ask you to study each page and try to practice yourself when you can, alright? I'll even lay them all down on the floor of the music hall so you know where each step will land you.”

Xander looked at each page, trying to put his feet in the right place. “One.... two... what? Oh, that's meant to be _your_ foot. Right?”

“Is it several sizes smaller than your foot, milord?”

“Yes. Forgive me, I'm confused.”

“Then yes, milord. It's meant to be my foot.” Laslow said dryly. “I can tell you're confused. That's why I'm going to put them on the floor and show you. See, look, I've even used two different colored inks so you can see which foot is which.”

Xander furrowed his brow and suddenly dropped to his knees, clutching the pages in trembling fists. “Why? Why don't I understand this? Every noble is expected to know this, why don't I understand it?” He berated himself aloud. Laslow was taken aback for a second, and then recognized what was going on. He knelt in front of his lord, gently pried Xander's stiff fingers off of the pages, and smoothed out the parchment as best he could before putting them to the side and scooting forward, taking Xander's face in his hands once again.

“Milord. You are not a fool, or stupid, or wrong. You were never taught this. I was never taught how to play cricket; would you call me a fool for not knowing how?”

“N....No, of course not. Because your merit is not based--”

“on your ability to know how to dance instinctively, Milord.” Laslow finished. “Don't do that to yourself. Don't fall down that hole. You are a great man, and will make a fantastic King. Yours will be a reign I am proud to swear my fealty to, my lord. Your merit is not based on your ability to dance. But for the sake of this ball, I have to make some manner of attempt to teach you. You are not worthless because you are struggling.”

Xander sighed heavily and rested his forehead against Laslow's. “Thank you, my friend. I'm.... having a hard day.” Xander murmured. Laslow shushed him gently, stroking his cheek.

“I know, my dear lord. I know. And I'm sorry. Perhaps we can take tomorrow off. Call it a self-care day. We'll go into town, have some tea, maybe buy ourselves some nice things.”

“Yes..... alright.” Xander said softly. “Yes.”

“Good. Rest, milord. Rest.” Laslow laid his lord down in his bed. “Take a nap. I'll shoo away any visitors. Go on, get some sleep. Hit the hay for a couple hours.”

“Will you stay again?” Xander asked, pointedly not looking Laslow in the eye.

“If that's what you want, milord. I'm yours to do with as you please. If you want me to stay, I will stay. And at any point, you decide I should leave, then leave I shall, even if it pains me.” Laslow replied, hands behind his back at a lazy attention. “You and I have been through so much. Perhaps all we have is each other after all this time. Perhaps we understand one another better than we can ever hope to understand ourselves. And perhaps that's frightening and seems foreign. After all, I grew up on the battlefield. You grew up in a palace.”

Xander patted the bed next to him, and Laslow pulled off his doublet again, folding it neatly and quietly and setting it down on Xander's chair. He followed the doublet with his overshirt, his gloves, and his belt. He set his boots next to the chair neatly, still not saying a word. He climbed into bed next to Xander. Xander put an arm around his shoulders gently.

“Tell me, Laslow. Please. I can't sleep if I don't know. Not anymore. I need to understand you, Laslow. It's important to me.” Xander pleaded, quietly. Laslow leaned his head on Xander's shoulder and smiled just a bit.

“Alright. Fine. We've won the war and I've decided I'm not going home. I'm staying right here. And you deserve to know.”

Laslow sat up and began a tale of the undead, of fell magic, of dragons and curses and royalty thrown into disarray, of his homeland and his country and his people. _And my father, he was a King. Don't give me that look, it's true. My mother, she was a dancer, a commoner. And she was...different,_ _ **(She was black. You don't have to use euphemisms with me, Laslow.)**_ _y-yes, she was. How did you know? I suppose I inherited a bit of that. My sister certainly didn't, lily-white beauty she was. But..._ _Mum was a commoner, and she was foreign, and Father's council had an uproar over it. They got over it, eventually, I hear, but they made Mum miserable for the first few years of their marriage and humiliated her at their wedding. And then my sister was born, and then me. But then...._

_Then the war came. And Father left for battle. Only his sword returned. **(I'm so sorry....)** , I.... it's fine.... Mother died protecting us. We grew up on the battlefield, against things only nightmares can conjure up. It was an apocalypse, destruction raining down from the very sky, the end of the world. It was the end of our world. And yes, there was a war here, but you Nohrians wouldn't know the meaning of 'apocalypse' if it snuck up and bit you, no offense. **(None taken. My world has never ended. Yours did.)** Day in and day out was fighting, surviving, ambushing other survivor camps for what little food and shelter they had, **(You were bandits. Survivors... Oh, Laslow...)** Don't pity me.... I deserve better than your pity, yes? I mean... we did what we had to, anything we had to, and I do mean _anything _.... until the day we would win the war. But we never won that war. We were thrown back in time by divine intervention, and we won that war instead. It's... an even longer story, milord, I assure you. **(We have time, Laslow.)** Not nearly enough, believe me. But, needless to say, our own timeline was ruin, and we didn't belong in the new one we had created. We had nothing left, nothing but the clothes on our backs and we were lost in time and space. We were burdens on our families, as much as we didn't want to be and they didn't want to admit. But we could see it in their eyes, in their very souls. They had no idea what to do with us. Father and Mother.... the ones from the new timeline, the younger Chrom and Olivia.... they already had a baby to raise, a kingdom to rebuild and a council to appease. They just didn't have the room or the time for Lucy and I. So.... I left. _

“And then.... after everything I'd been through, I was called upon to serve you. I knew I had to hide my past. I'm a foreign prince, how would you ever trust me if you knew? I knew I couldn't hide forever.” Laslow finished. “My real name.... it's Inigo. That's the name my mother gave to me. But I am also Laslow. I will always be Laslow. I will always answer to Laslow. It's probably for the best I _only_ answer to Laslow. I was never supposed to tell you any of this information in the first place. My past was always meant to be secret, and I would very much appreciate if you could possibly keep this between us. I am Laslow, I have always been Laslow and I will always be Laslow.”

Xander processed the information for a long, poignant moment. “Okay.” he said simply.

“Okay?”

“Okay. You're a foreign prince, the long-lost son of Ylissean royalty destroyed. You are still my closest friend. You have stated that you have no intention to return home, despite your desires during the war, that your timeline was destroyed and you don't belong in the new one you created.” Xander said. “So.... okay. What do we do from here?”

“Well, first of all, I say we call for some wine, and some snacks, and we lounge around in your luxurious bed for a couple of days to get our heads on straight, and then we get back to work trying to figure out how to correct your overabundance of left feet.” Laslow replied. Xander laughed out loud.

“Yes, that sounds like a plan, dear prince. Take a couple of days off. I'll have Leo handle anything I need to do in those two days. We'll shut ourselves in here, and I'll call for some wine and some food, and I'll pull out the chessboard and we'll entertain ourselves.” Xander acquiesced. “Maybe we'll go into town and treat ourselves, like you suggested. It's been far too long since I've treated myself to anything nice simply for the sake of having it.”

“Yes, yes, there we are! There's the smile. I'll go fetch the wine and a couple of glasses, be back in a few!” Laslow exited the room, forgetting the rest of his clothes. As such, the maids gave him a very funny look when he came into the kitchens and started fishing around the wine rack. He was whistling idly to himself as he clambered up on top of the counter to pull down a couple of wineglasses and then turned to one of the maids. “Dearie, Lord Xander's requested his dinner a bit early, sorry about that, do you mind?”

“Not at all, Sir Laslow. I'll prepare it at once. Are you taking your dinner as well?”

“I suspect I won't be able to get out of it, so yes.” Laslow chuckled. “Thanks, dear.”

“Not at all. You know, he really likes you.” She commented, beginning to cook dinner.

“I would certainly hope so, I do consider him a dear friend. My very closest friend, really.” Laslow replied, pulling out a corkscrew from a drawer. “Right now he's a little.... mad, really. He has mood swings. I suspect it's due to the death of his father and his subsequent coronation. He's _stressed_. I know what it's like to lose someone you thought you loved, especially if that love is familial.” Laslow sighed, pushing the corkscrew into the bottle and popping the cork out. “He needs a friend. He needs me. I'm the only one he ever lets see him like this. It's going to drive him mad, if I can't help him. I already feel like I'm mad sometimes.”

“He trusts you. He doesn't trust us the same way, I can tell you that. I mean, he trusts us not to poison him, but he trusts you with the poison. You know what I mean?” The maid responded. “Go on up to him. I'll bring you both dinner.”

“You're a peach, dearie. Tea sometime?”

“Not on your life, you lousy sellsword. Go on, get out of here. Back to your Lord.” The maid shooed Laslow out of the kitchens good-naturedly. Laslow laughed. It wasn't as though he had just admitted he was a foreign prince or anything, no.

“Thanks, Katie!” Laslow teased.

“It's Carole, you loser!”

“I know, I'm just being a prick. You're our Carole, did you think I would forget? I'm not that shallow.” Laslow admitted with a grin, before leaving and going back up to Xander.

Xander looked up. “It's about time you came back.” He said, chuckling. Laslow laughed.

“That Carole down in the kitchens is a riot. Does not take a _single_ word of my bullshit, either! She's making us dinner. I didn't ask her what she was making. Here, I brought up some wine, milord.”

“Ohhhh, that's a good one. Nice choice.” Xander commented as Laslow poured the wine into the glasses. It was a smooth, slightly dry red wine, just to Xander's liking. It had notes of cherry and rosehip, and had a deep, robust finish. The two of them lounged on Xander's bed, drinking wine and leaning into each other.

“I feel like I don't have to put on airs with you, Laslow. You can see right through me every time.” Xander said. “Whenever my title and my crown becomes too much to bear, you are always there to help me carry the weight of it all. I thank you for that. I'm extremely grateful to have someone like you by my side to help me bear the weight of my country's expectations.”

Laslow nodded slowly. He leaned into Xander's side easily; Xander was naturally an affectionate man and put his arm around Laslow's shoulders. Laslow looked up into Xander's eyes.

“I know how it feels to lose someone you love. And I know how it feels to survive a war relatively unscathed and I know what it's like to feel overwhelming, crushing survivor's guilt. I know what it's like to have the weight of a country's expectations on your shoulders. I can't simply sit idly by and watch the suffering claim my dearest friend, and you _are_ my dearest friend, and perhaps I'm not very good at helping but I want to try for you, milord.” He cast his eyes down, away from Xander. An enormous sadness cast a shadow across his expression. “….I very nearly killed myself at the age of nineteen. I was there, sitting on a bridge overlooking a vast canyon in Plegia, the Risen swarming behind me, and I thought to myself, 'I can end it here. I can end my suffering, and I can be blissfully unaware of these horrors. I can be nothingness. I would rather be nothingness.' And I didn't do it. I could have jumped to my death, but instead I survived. There was still something inside me that screamed, 'No'. It said I still had a purpose in this world. It said I still had a choice. And I believe I made the right decision. The decision to live, because that decision brought me to your door. And now that I'm here, you can't get rid of me. I'm a bent gold coin, milord, you can't get rid of me and I always come back.” Laslow grinned.

Xander took a long sip of his wine. “I am grateful for this.” He said. “Because if I could easily discard you, I would not trust you so fully as I do. I would still be alone.”

“You're never alone with me, Lord Xander.” Laslow said. “Never again will you be alone as long as I live and breathe. Trust in me, my lord. I will never steer you wrong.”

Carole brought them both dinner, and when she entered, they were sitting on the floor playing a game of chess. Laslow was losing miserably. Half his pieces were lined up on the floor in front of Xander's side of the board. Only two of Xander's pieces, a pawn and a rook, were lined up in front of Laslow's. Xander had let Laslow take those two pieces to gain a tactical advantage.

“Wait, which way does the knight move again? It's two down and one over, right?”

“Correct-- no, that's three down, Laslow. One back up. Left or right?”

“Oh, bloody.... I'd rather shove the knight into my eye at this point.” Laslow grumbled, putting the piece down. Xander thanked Carole for their dinners and had her set the tray down next to them.

As soon as Carole left, Laslow let out a breath of air. “I really would like to stop this. It's clear I've no head for games, milord.”

“Oh, alright. Watching you get frustrated was funny, but I'll put the chessboard away. Another glass of wine?” Xander offered, plucking up the bottle, and Laslow offered his empty glass. Xander refilled both their wineglasses and put the bottle down. “Perhaps we can simply enjoy each other's company quietly.”

“Will you try to teach me some Nohrian? I'll teach you some Feroxi if you do.” Laslow offered, taking a sip from his glass. “I was raised trilingual, speaking Common, Ylissean, and Feroxi. Mum made it a _very_ important point in my childhood to teach me the Feroxi language.”

“What is it you'd like to know?” Xander asked, leaning back against his bed.

“How would one say 'I love you' in Nohrian?” Laslow asked. It was an odd thing to choose, Xander noted, but a natural starting point. His lips quirked up just a bit.

“The literal translation for that would be _ich liebe dich._ I believe there are other translations, but I was never taught them. _”_ Xander replied. “How do you say it in Feroxi? Or Ylissean, for that matter?”

Laslow smiled. _“_ In Ylissean, it's _j'adore_ or _j'taime,_ though the latter is more used in a friendly way.” He said. “In Feroxi, it's.... well.... hmm.... It's.... _te amo._ Then again, there are other Feroxi translations too, all of them meaning slightly different things. _Te amo_ is what you'd say when you truly, honestly love someone, when you look at them and wouldn't hesitate to protect them with your life. To say _te amo_ to someone is to tell them you'll be by their side until death do you part, come hell or high water. It's considered a very special and important declaration of love that you save until you're sure you'll never part. You don't take _te amo_ lightly.” Laslow explained. “A more friendly translation would be _quiero._ That's used between friends and family, usually. It's a more general term. Like the difference between 'I want to spend my life with you' and 'love you, see you tomorrow!'”

“I see.” Xander replied simply, vaguely. “This is going to bring the mood down, but did you ever say _te amo_ to Azura?”

Laslow looked at him with a pained expression, but he understood why the question was asked. Xander had to have been curious, and made the connection naturally. “....No. I was not sure we would never part. I knew the sacrifice she had to make, and I didn't let my entire heart get attached. I couldn't. It makes me a atrocious and selfish husband, but I could not bring myself to say _te amo_ to Azura, I told her I loved her, daily, _frequently_ even. Of course I loved her. She was the mother of my children, my wife, her voice ended the war, but.... But I.... I'm a horrible and selfish man.... I should have said it to her, maybe then she would have at least died happy. As it stands I never told her what _te amo_ means. I never told her anything. She knew nothing of what I truly was. I truly am a horrible man....” Laslow sunk his head into the heel of his hand, trying not to cry. Xander put his hand tentatively on Laslow's shoulder, and gently tugged. Laslow slid easily into his arms, and Xander held him there, cradling Laslow on his lap like a child, holding him.

“There was nothing any of us could do, Laslow. I'm... I'm so sorry I brought it up....”

“No. It's a legitimate question. It's.... it's a valid concern. But I've given my answer.” Laslow said, leaning his head into Xander's chest. “I married Azura because I loved her. But... I always knew it wouldn't last. Somehow, I knew. I knew I'd end up all alone again. And yet I went and had two children with her. At least I still have them. Soleil, my sunny little princess, and Shigure, my cloudy little prince. Well, they're not so little anymore, are they? Those Deeprealms certainly threw me for a loop. One minute my babies were being separated, and the next they both came back having grown into fine and wonderful people. It makes a man proud. And I feel lucky to see them all grown up before I've gone old and gray. But I can't keep them with me forever. I can't treat them like children, not when they're both fully-grown adults and veterans, for that matter. I can't coddle them, or safeguard them. They are adults who are fully capable of making their own decisions. And they chose to live outside the castle. Especially Shigure... it truly saddens me that he and I don't see eye-to-eye on a lot of things.” Laslow sighed deeply, closing his eyes.

Xander laid back and stroked Laslow's hair, noting its fine and soft texture, its silver color (Laslow needed to touch up his roots-- Xander could see a deep blue just beginning to shoot up from Laslow's scalp, and Xander was right by the way, blue _did_ suit Laslow, it complemented more than just his eyes), the way it smelled like herbal soap and weapon oil. And they laid there like that in silence, wrapped up in each other, no sound other than Xander's crackling fireplace and their own soft breathing echoing off the walls, their heartbeats in perfect time against each other's chests, pretending their friendship hadn't just grown three sizes that day, and perhaps they both knew exactly what they wanted to say but couldn't bring themselves to say it, and the tension grew until Laslow finally looked up.

“I don't know about you, milord, but I'm feeling rather hungry. Let's not let Carole's hard work go to waste.”

“Right.”

Laslow slid off of Xander's lap, back onto the floor, and took his plate, still warm and steaming. Carole really knew how to put a good warming charm on things. And they found that dinner was paired perfectly with the wine Laslow had chosen, and Laslow silently thanked Carole in his head for being a good sport about it all. Laslow poured them both another glass, and then realized that the bottle was empty. “Ohhhh, no, I only brought up one bottle of wine and I was kind of hoping to get knackered on expensive wine tonight.”

Xander chuckled. “Laslow, I am royalty. Do you think I don't have my own private reserve in here? Laslow, I _like_ wine. I had a wine rack installed.” Xander reached underneath his bed and pulled out an entire wine rack, wider than it was tall to fit under the bed. It was dusty; clearly Xander hadn't felt the need to go down there for quite some time. He pulled out a particularly old and dusty bottle. He blew the grime off of the label and brushed it off with the back of his hand. “Here we are. A good Nohrian red blend, a vintage too. It's the same kind we were drinking, just a more distant year, so it should be fine with dinner.” Xander pulled out a corkscrew from behind the wine rack and opened the bottle with a smile.

He and Laslow drank wine and talked and sang until they fell asleep (more like drunkenly passed out) in each other's arms, curled up in bed together. They both woke up late the next morning, hungover and sweaty, tangled in the sheets. “Ughhhh.... I forgot what wine does to my head....” Laslow groaned, taking one of Xander's luxurious down pillows and covering his head with it.

“Shhhhh!” Xander hissed, holding his own throbbing skull in his hands. “Wine headache.” he grunted, nudging Laslow up with the bump of his hip to make them coffee. “Coffee.” he ordered simply, with no patience or understanding.

“Nnnngh, I'm hungover too.” Laslow protested, muffled by the pillow over his head, wobbling ineffectively with each bump of Xander's hip against his side.

“But you're the one who knows how to make coffee.” Xander almost _whined_ with how bad his head hurt. “And coffee will make us both feel human again.”

“Fiiiiiiiiiiiine. You _owe_ me.” Laslow managed to stumble and trip himself out of bed and went to go rinse out the same teapot they'd been using for three days. Judging from the sudden clatter of the teapot and the sound of Laslow getting violently ill in Xander's washroom, Xander would be waiting for his coffee just a few minutes longer. Just a few.

Laslow emerged from the washroom looking slightly green, but with a full teapot of water to brew the coffee with.

“Are you alright?” Xander asked.

“Mmph. No. But I'll live. I've been hungover before. Wine just.... makes me sick the next day. I usually don't drink wine; I stick with hard liquor or ale.” Laslow explained, making the coffee by muscle memory alone.

Xander looked over at him and slowly, groggily realized that Laslow wasn't wearing a shirt. And furthermore, his back was covered in a wide expanse of equal parts beautiful floral-patterned ink and terrible, sunken white scars. But the tattoos were in bright, vivid color, which looked absolutely _stunning_ against Laslow's deep, dark skin. Xander hadn't even known it was possible to tattoo in such vivid color on skin such as Laslow's. The only tattoos on a person with dark skin Xander had ever seen before were in black and white, or an odd sickly green. A flowing script in white, looking almost like scars, wrote out a message Xander could not read underneath each flower that decorated Laslow's back. “Where did you get those tattoos?” Xander blurted rather stupidly. Laslow froze and almost dropped the teapot. He had forgotten he wasn't wearing a shirt. Oh, well. Might as well.

“They're new.” Laslow replied, once he regained his composure. “The white lily is to represent Azura, the pink carnation is to represent my mother, and the blue gladiolus represents my father. The words are just their names written in Ylissean. 'Azura, Olivia, Chrom.' All people I've lost to war and suffering. I pray I never have to add more. Getting tattoos burns like the devil.” The excuse was weak, and both Laslow and Xander knew it. “It hurts to get tattoos” was code for “I hope I never lose anyone else to violence.”

“I see. The scars being old war wounds, I suspect.” Xander said.

“Mm-hmm.” Laslow grunted, unwilling to talk about it further as he poured them both coffee. Xander took a sip and could almost feel his headache lessening.

“Oh, sweet gods....” Xander breathed. “I love wine, but I really, truly _hate_ wine.”

“What you need is some Feroxi moonshine. That shite will knock you on your arse.” Laslow said. “It knocks even hardened drinkers to the ground. Ninety-three percent alcohol.”

Xander almost snorted his coffee in disbelief. “Excuse me? Did you just say _93% alcohol_?”

“Honestly I'm not even sure what's in it, I just know that it's disgusting and two shots will have even you vomiting violently far into the next morning. But if you're looking to get simply _crocked,_ it's what you need.” Laslow laughed. “Believe me, Odin and I used to _make_ it. We would brew it up in cauldrons left over from the roving bands of Grimleal. We'd clean them out and use them to cook up huge batches of moonshine for the entire army. Only on special occasions of course. A birthday, a marriage, a new baby... that sort of thing. Well, okay, Odin brewed it up, I was the official cauldron-collector. I couldn't stand the smell of the stuff as it was being distilled so I stayed away from the actual moonshine-making process.”

“So is this a real traditional beverage of the Feroxi people or are you and Odin just Feroxi moonshine-makers?” Xander asked in amusement, taking another sip of his coffee.

“Believe it or not, it was a real thing! We got the recipe out of the Feroxi library before the Grimleal burned it down. There were schematics on how to build distilleries and everything. It was glorious. Beautiful, even. When everything around you is a smoking ruin, and the very graves of your family have been burned to the ground, you tend to collect mind-altering substances that make living less like hell.” Laslow said. “But drinking that stuff is why I stick to ale now, usually. I'll have a glass of brandy but I definitely don't drink anything _clear_ anymore.” He laughed bitterly. “Though sometimes I hang out with Niles, and he usually brings along some very lovely party favors.”

“Mm. I've heard from Leo. Niles deals in marijuana in his spare time. As royals, we should reprimand him for it, as it is _technically_ illegal in Nohr, but he _does_ give us very good discounts and we're all suckers for nepotism, and he's my brother's retainer, so I let him get away with it. Unless he's actively using it in front of us, he can do what he wants. Really, it's a law I'm not that much a fan of; who really cares if someone smokes a joint in their spare time? I certainly have once or twice in my day. Without my father finding out, of course.” Xander said with a sigh. “It's just not a law that's very high on my priority list. If there's more public support for it, I'll rush it through faster but at the moment it seems like the populace is pretty okay with where things are.”

“Oh, he gives other retainers good deals too. He's a much sweeter man than he comes off as. Quote, 'you're lucky I like you. 45 gold for a quarter.'”

“Laslow, what are you suggesting?” Xander asked, suddenly slightly suspicious. When he saw Laslow's grin, he balked. “Laslow, no. I'm to be crowned King within the moon, I have too much _work_ to do to spend my time smoking pot with my retainer.”

Laslow _cackled._ “It's just for today, milord! Believe me, it helps with some of the inner demons.”

Xander sighed heavily and daresay, dramatically. He never could deny Laslow anything, and Laslow had a point, unfortunately. “I am absolutely throwing you under the carriage if this comes back to haunt me.”

Laslow cackled again. “I would expect nothing less! Ten minutes, milord!”

And that's how Xander found himself accidentally burning his finger on the hot end of a metal pipe, hissing in pain, cursing under his breath, and sticking his finger in his mouth.

“Ooh! I've done that before. Here, I know a simple healing incantation.” Laslow took the pipe, put it down, and picked up Xander's hand. Laslow murmured something in an ancient tongue _(Laslow speaking in another tongue, and such a beautiful tongue, a language of love and good tidings),_ and the burn on Xander's finger began to heal over, first turning into a scar before fading away as if it had never been burned. It was slightly tender, but it was healed. Laslow did not move to let go of Xander's hand.

“Thank you.” Xander said softly, slightly flushed. Laslow let go gently and took his hands back.

“It's just a simple one. I can't heal a lost limb or anything, so don't go flinging yourself at any swords.” Laslow said, then giggled hopelessly. His giggling set Xander off, and the two of them devolved into gleeful laughter. Laslow picked up the pipe again. The room was beginning to fill with smoke.

“Perhaps we've had enough.” Laslow giggled. “Got to admit, the headache's gone, though.”

“I didn't even notice I wasn't squinting anymore.” Xander admitted. “You're a genius, Laslow.”

“I try, milord.” Laslow emptied out the ashes of the pipe into the garbage can and put the entire apparatus away into a little case he had in his lap. “See? It feels much better like this.”

“It's like all my stress is melting away. I almost feel ready to try dancing again.” Xander smiled brightly, a more bright smile than he ever had before.

“Good! I'm glad I could help, milord. You were so dreary, it was exhausting.” Laslow blurted. “Not to say I don't understand, of course. But it was killing me watching the grief and the anxiety _slowly eat you from within_.” Laslow put on a funny, nasally voice and wiggled his hands in front of his body for emphasis, and his visual got Xander laughing again.

“Alright, so we've agreed that this was a good idea.” Xander chuckled. “Perhaps, just perhaps, I can slip legalization of marijuana in with a different bill and maybe the council won't read it too closely. It'll piss Niles off, but the people buying it legally will pay a tax on it, and it'll boost the economy and help rebuilding efforts after the war. Not to mention it has honest medicinal uses, and I am always in favor of anything that will provide a better quality of life for my citizens, yes?”

“Milord, you're a gentleman and a scholar.” Laslow grinned shamelessly. “Honestly, it's a natural thing, and nobody dies from it, unlike that horrific _cocaine_ our priest Brady used to like....”

The thought of a priest on cocaine got Xander laughing again. “W-w-wh-what?” he stuttered between giggles.

“It's true!” Laslow snorted. “I'm not kidding around, he liked cocaine. It was horrid. I tried it once. Never went back a second time. It made me violently ill and I had the shakes for three days. I told Brady exactly where he could shove it and never tried it again.”

They laughed together until their lunch came. Once word had spread that Lord Xander was taking a couple of days off for his health, the servants fell into a routine of checking on him every few hours. Carole opened the door to find her soon-to-be King and his retainer giggling hopelessly, pressed to each other's sides and the distinct smell of marijuana in the air. She sighed, but said nothing about it.

“I've brought your lunches, my lord.”

“Oh, good!” Laslow said brightly. “I was hungry.”

“I was _starving.”_ Xander blurted, and they took the tray from Carole. “I'm giving you a raise, you've been _lovely_ these last couple of days. Thank you!” He said sweetly, and Carole smiled.

“I appreciate it, sire, but I'm just a kitchen maid.”

“Nonsense! How would we eat if not for kitchen maids? You have a very important job. It should be recognized for the true skilled position that it is!” Xander insisted. His eyes were red, wild, and he looked disheveled.

“Sire. I appreciate it. But you're stoned out of your mind, and you're being silly. It's alright, really. I'll take my leave now.” Carole bowed low and skittered away before her master started babbling again.

“Remind me to actually put a bonus in her next paycheck.” Xander said to Laslow.

“As you command, sire.” Laslow replied, chuckling. “I should get you stoned out of your gourd more often.” He commented blithely. “Do you feel alright to go into town, or did you have too much, milord?”

“I'm probably very obviously high to the outside world, but I don't feel bad or anything.” Xander babbled. “I feel pretty good, actually, and it's a strange feeling, because I haven't been this content and at ease in a while.”

“Mmm, pot does that. Come on, then. Eat your lunch and we'll go out and buy ourselves some nice things.”

“What kind of nice things, Laslow?”

“Anything we can get our grubby little fists on.” Laslow replied, and the two devolved into hopeless laughter again before they scarfed down their lunch, changed their clothes, and bustled out of the castle in a flurry of giggles and fluffy cloaks. They ran into Peri down the hall.

“Peri, darling! I'm taking our lord out for a little fresh air. Care to join us?” Laslow asked merrily. Peri crinkled her nose and looked up at Xander.

“Nuh-uh, no way. You guys smell like pot and Peri hates that smell. Lazzy, did you actually manage to convince Milord to try that stuff? Boys are so silly. Peri bets you got it from Niles. Anyway, Peri doesn't wanna hang out right now. Peri is gonna go make cookies for the children.” Peri grumped. Laslow laughed heartily.

“Fair enough! Have fun making cookies for the local orphanages, I'll be in town with Lord Xander.” Laslow took Xander's wrist gently and led him towards their horses.

“ _Mmmmm.”_ Xander made a sound of being perplexed and displeased at the same time. “Not sure I remember how to ride a horse right now. The fact I'm upright is already miraculous.”

“Don't worry, I've mastered it. Climb up behind me, milord, and I'll get us to town no problem.” Laslow insisted, climbing up and offering Xander a hand. Xander took his hand and found himself whisked to a district of town he normally wouldn't look twice at. Laslow seemed right at home here, bartering with shop owners and flirting with local barmaids. Most didn't even notice he was wild, talkative, grinning shamelessly at his own jokes and doing enough shopping for the both of them, but Xander noticed. Xander felt like he was noticing _everything._ The way a young noblewoman fixed the pin in her hat. The way a town guard looked at him with recognition of his King in his eyes. The way two girls sitting by the fountain chatted to each other quietly, sharing gossip and casting glances in his direction. The way a child in rags picked pockets as he slipped down the road. Xander felt like he couldn't take his eyes off the boy once he noticed him, and the boy noticed him staring. The boy slipped off into an alley, looking visibly distressed. Xander was snapped out of his reverie by Laslow snapping his fingers close to Xander's ear.

“Milord, are you awake in there?” Laslow asked playfully. “I've bought you a scarf, look.” He draped a dark wine-colored scarf across Xander's shoulders.

“Oh. I... there was a little blond boy, he was picking pockets, I--” Xander's reaction time was slowed. Xander began to feel like he may have had too much. He was in public, he was unarmed, and he was currently _impaired_. He would have to rely on Laslow to protect him, and Laslow was also currently impaired. However, Laslow had the advantage of having mastered fighting while high. Hopefully it would not come to that. But it just might. Nohr was still an unstable place after the war, and many people robbed well-dressed passers-by to survive. It wouldn't come to that. No, surely not. Laslow would protect him if it did, right? Oh no. Xander was beginning to lose it.

“Oh, him? That's little James, yes. His poor mum died in the war, poor thing. Has he already turned to picking pockets? He used to just beg on the street for spare coins.” Laslow looked upset. “He must have noticed the almost-King staring at him and run off. You likely spooked him. You are big and bad and strong and all that. Well, he'll come back out when we're gone, I suppose. Come on, there's a lovely little kitsch shop here.” Laslow led his lord by the wrist into the store.

“Forgive me, Laslow. I'm.... not entirely here right now.” Xander sighed. “I'm feeling a little anxious, to be honest. I may have had too much.” Xander couldn't stop flexing his fingers in front of him. Why couldn't he stop? He only was able to stop once Laslow gripped his fingers in his own.

“No, forgive _me._ It's I who suggested we vitiate your sense of judgment before we went on a trip. I should have rationed how much you were using, considering your tolerance. I assumed you had the same tolerance I did, and I believe that may have been a mistake.” Laslow replied. “I do so hope I still have my job in the morning. It's a job I very much like.”

Xander laughed, a little more at ease with Laslow's reply. “Of course you do, Laslow. Now, you said something about a scarf?”

“Look, the display is here, aren't they nice?” Laslow trailed off, gesturing to the display of deeply-colored scarves on a table. He made sure to be careful and speak clearly, and kept his Lord on a short leash while they shopped.

They walked down the road to the next shop, their arms already laden with bags. “Milord, let me take that one. It's heavy.”

“All the more reason I should be carrying it, yes?”

“Milord, we've been over this. Just because you are twice my size does not mean you are twice as strong as me. I'm not a weak man.”

“I know that!” Playful banter aside, Xander eventually did end up surrendering the bag when he acquired an even heavier one from a shop selling rocks and crystals. He had bought Camilla a rather large amethyst globe the same color as her hair. She would love it.

They ran into Shigure while in town. It appeared that Shigure was in some manner of foul mood, as his eyes were cold and dead-looking. He had his Pegasus by her bridle and was walking her along the street. Shigure immediately picked up on his father's current altered state of mind and crinkled his nose in disgust. “Father.” His voice was dripping with venom, but he kept a straight face.

“Shigure.” Laslow replied with the same venom. “Well? Are you going to greet your future King? He is technically your uncle, I might remind you.” Laslow lectured coldly, and Shigure looked up at Xander.

“Ah, Lord Xander. How do you do?” Shigure's tone was suddenly much sweeter and he bowed politely to Xander, but still retained an otherworldly bitterness in his eyes. Xander couldn't fathom _why,_ but perhaps his friendship with Laslow had something to do with it. Perhaps Shigure was under the impression that anyone who associated with his father had some sort of flaw. Perhaps Shigure was just bitter, but he was still healing. Xander didn't take it too personally, though Shigure's tone of voice bothered him somewhat.

“I....am fine.” Xander said slowly. “Did something else happen between you two? Am I intruding? I can go over there if you two need to work out your issues.” Xander offered.

“Not at all, Lord Xander. I was simply leaving.” Shigure tugged forward on the reigns of his pegasus, which trotted forward to her Master's side with a snort and a whinny. Her wings stretched out for a moment, fluttering and shedding a few dead feathers, which floated aimlessly to the ground and landed at Laslow's feet. Laslow bent down to pick up one of the feathers and twirled it in his hand, pointedly not looking his son in the eye.

Shigure's eyes.... they looked so much like Azura's, and it shamed Laslow to admit that it hurt to look into Shigure's eyes. It still hurt to see so much of Azura in him. Sure, Soleil had inherited the same baby blue hair and the same beautiful smile, but Shigure was Azura's son through and through. And it hurt to see such venom and veiled bitterness in Shigure's eyes, whereas Azura never held that sort of anger inside her. Azura's eyes were warm and bright when she looked at him. Shigure's eyes were cold, and sad, and acrimonious. And it hurt Laslow to think that those resentful eyes were his fault. Laslow never meant to hurt his son so much. But still, there they were, across a narrow cobblestone road from one another, and there was still anger in Laslow's veins. The air thrummed between them, a tension that Xander could have cut with a knife.

“I certainly hope you haven't been slacking off instead of practicing for your performance at the coronation ball, Shigure.” Laslow said, and Shigure tensed. “You did promise me, after all.”

“Of course not. Do you think me so stupid? As it stands, from the smell, you're not doing much in the way of your job either. Smoking your days away isn't going to coronate Lord Xander any sooner, and it certainly won't teach him to dance any sooner. I highly suggest actually doing your own job if you're going to try and lecture me to do mine, otherwise you look less like a man and more like a fool.” Shigure mounted his pegasus and took to the skies, leaving a sputtering Laslow behind.

“That... little... son of a _bitch!_ He treats me like he hates me! What did I ever do but try to love him?” Laslow said with a kind of manic, petulant energy. He crushed the feather in a trembling fist before throwing it on the ground at his feet. “He's my son and I can't even talk to him!” Tears were threatening to spill down Laslow's cheeks, teetering barely on the edge of sobbing. Xander placed a hand on Laslow's shoulder, and the dam broke; Laslow simply broke down into tears, and Xander pulled him into a darkened alley and held him close. Laslow collapsed into Xander's arms, clutching his lord's shirt tightly between quivering fists.

“I can't-- I can't even t-t-talk to my own f- _fucking_ son... Doesn't he realize I loved her too?”

“As did we all, Laslow. I know... I know. I miss her too.”

“He hates me because he thinks I never loved her. He thinks that I must have been... cheating on her, or that I didn't love her, or that I married her for her status or some of that rubbish. What Shigure doesn't know is that _I'm a foreign prince,_ he's royalty from both sides of his family and he has no idea! He has Ylisse's brand on him! Right on his left hipbone, marked proof that he is my bloody son, my own flesh and blood, that he is Ylissean royalty! He has the brand! So does Soleil, on the back of her neck! I never told them what it means, only that it comes from my side of the family. Soleil is all upset she can't see hers. Gods, you should see Soleil lately, Shigure hardly talks to her either.... I loved Azura, I truly, honestly did but she's fucking _dead_ and nothing I do or say can fix that! I'm not a god, I'm not some magical being who can raise the dead! She's dead and gone! I can't fix that! He wants me to fix it somehow, to prove to him that I loved her but I can't! I can't go back in time! I tried that once and it left me scarred and broken! A goddess or s-some divine being isn't going to j-just... appear out of nowhere and offer to bring her back again!” Laslow wiped his tears with his hands, like a child, as he paced back and forth in the alley, ranting and raving. He sucked in a deep breath and collapsed into Xander's arms. “I can't help him! Have you seen his paintings lately, milord? It's her, all her. He's _stuck_ on her, like a ghost he can't get rid of. And I feel bad, I do, because he's so trapped in his head and he just hates me so much.....” Laslow devolved into a sobbing mess, right into Xander's shirt, and Xander held him there in the alley, shushing him quietly.

“Oh, Laslow... I-- I don't _have_ children, I don't know _how_ to help you...” Xander said desperately, trying so hard to be helpful but instead coming up short. The anxiety was returning. Xander could feel it thrumming in his blood, and his hands began to tremble. Laslow definitely noticed. Xander could tell.

Laslow's sobbing finally settled itself into a plaintive sniffle, and he was able to step back from Xander's embrace.

“I am sorry.... my lord, for my outburst. I... I am currently _quite_ impaired.” Laslow said, trying to settle his voice. Xander sighed.

“At ease, Laslow. You are my friend. Friends are allowed to hold each other through sadness. You are in a unique position, with your son being roughly the same age you are and having such a tense relationship with him. You were not able to bond as a father and son during the war, and for this I am sorry. I truly wish he was more friendly towards you. I wish your relationship could be repaired. Hopefully, after my coronation, you can start to make steps towards progress.” Xander suggested.

“Yes... truly, I hope. Oh, right! Shit, the coronation ball! Milord, we have to really start working. We've slacked off long enough.” Laslow said, suddenly in a panic. “In a way, Shigure was right. We were idiots to take time off when there's so much on the line.”

Xander sighed. “I suppose you're right. Though there's technically nothing stopping us from refreshing this quite lovely high the two of us have going on, and then attempting to dance.”

“Hmm, you have a point! After that little fit of mine, I only have two emotions right now, and they're called Sounds Good and Let's Do It.”

In his apartment on the outskirts of Windmire, Shigure threw himself against his bedroom door and collapsed to the floor, sobbing hopelessly, surrounded by his paintings. Azura's face smiled back at him from dozens of canvases littering the room, some still drying by the windowsill, some hanging on the walls, some half-finished on easels, some tipped over and piled up in corners of a bedroom that was in _chaos_.

Laundry was piled up on top of old canvases and half-finished glasses of water and old plates of food littered any available space, including half of Shigure's bed. Tarps covered bookshelves, covered in paint smears. Dust settled on any surface not immediately being used for paint purposes, and it was clear that the room had not been thoroughly cleaned in quite some time. Shigure lived in a space that could only be defined as a cave of sadness and grief.

“Why am I like this?” Shigure lamented. From the doorway of the living room, Soleil stood in the shadows in her pajamas, weeping quietly. Right now, she really needed her father. And right now, Shigure didn't care if he ever saw Laslow again. But the thought of cutting him out entirely still haunted Shigure, rattling around in the back of his mind. No, surely not. Shigure was not so cold-hearted. He would never abandon his father completely. What kind of son would he be then? What kind of man? He would be a coward, and no son of Azura was a coward. Why, he might as well burn his bridges while he was at it. Just shut himself off from all society. Burn those bridges.... _Burn them down._

Shigure picked himself up off the floor with fire in his eyes. He threw away his tube of baby blue paint into the garbage can, and instead picked up a book of matches and an oil lamp off the table. He slammed the window open, knocking over a couple of glasses that spilled water onto the floor. One glass fell out of the window and shattered on the ground.

He began chucking half-finished and even completed paintings out of his bedroom window to smash on the ground below. Broken wood and torn canvases fell to pieces in the back alley. He even went so far as to break one of his paintings in half over his knee to get it to fit out of the window. Images of Azura shattered and ripped on the cold earth as Shigure slid down the side of the building via the gutter and landed with a thud in the back alley, before getting up and storming towards the pile of broken paintings with the oil lamp in his hand, and smashed it violently on the pile, spilling the oil and glass all over his paintings. He lit the match, tossed it in, stepped back from the massive fireball that shot into the sky from the fumes, and then stood and simply watched his life's work curl and warp into blackened ash in front of him, the acrid smell of burning paint filling the air and choking the sky with thick, black smoke that blotted out the very moon above and cast the stars in shadow.

Soleil began to pack her things in her own bedroom on the other side of the flat frantically before Shigure ended up killing them both in a fit of pique. Surely Uncle Xander would allow her to come back to the castle, right? She ran from the house via the front door and took off down the road, running from her beloved brother with fear in her heart, her bag slung over her shoulder.

On the way back, Laslow sighed. “Milord, I am truly sorry you had to see that.” He said, casting his eyes down and just letting the horse trot along the road. “Shigure and I don't see eye to eye, we never did, and while he is my son, I feel as though we're strangers. And it's shameful, but it hurts. It hurts quite a bit to see so much of my dead wife in the son she left behind, and I know that as a father I should be suppressing the urge to resent him, but he's shown quite clearly that he already resents me. He used to be such a sensitive, gentle boy, but he's in so much pain right now and he won't listen to anything I have to say. I'm sorry he was so cold towards you, Lord Xander. I'll... try to talk to him like a human being later, perhaps when I'm sober and less inclined to say something stupid.”

Xander simply leaned forward and hugged Laslow around the waist. “Don't apologize for being human, Laslow. As I said earlier, you are in a unique position and asking you to hold in your feelings to spare mine would be selfish and foolish. You need relief from these emotions.”

Laslow held one hand on the reigns and the other over Xander's hands, clasped around his stomach. “Thank you. If it helps, Soleil likes you. She actually calls you Uncle when she refers to you.” Laslow laughed, and Xander chuckled.

“Does she? That's adorable. Will she be performing at the ball too?”

“Yes, actually! Yes, she is! I've achieved a miracle, milord. I've managed to get her to follow a melody. She's not... quite in the right key? Or octave, for that matter....? But she's passable. I actually had Odin invent and name a new spell, he calls it Autotune. It takes the notes coming out of her mouth and sort of... runs them through a magical filter that puts her in the correct key and octave. It sounds a little funny at first, but he's tweaking it so that it should work for the performance. Right now it sort of sounds like she's singing underwater. There are still a few kinks to work out. She's been working with him on the spell, because it has to be tuned to her voice. Lord Leo is helping out too.”

“That's fascinating. I hope her performance is half as talented as yours is, Laslow. I look forward to seeing how your teaching affected her.”

“She can keep up with the rhythm, too! At first, she stumbled over her own two feet, but I've managed to get her to follow choreography without stumbling. I consider it a great accomplishment.... Milord? Do you smell smoke?”

“Now that you mention it, I do. Someone must be having a bonfire in the woods behind town.”

“I hope it's not bandits, that would simply ruin my night.”

“I'm sure it's nothing.” Xander said.

“Yes, you're right. I'm sure it's nothing.”

When they got back to the castle, they found Soleil at the gates, still in her pajamas, her bags packed around her and the vague smell of burning paint in the air, her head down and hands holding herself tightly. Laslow leapt off the horse and ran for her. He could tell she was in some sort of distress.

“Soleil! Darling, I thought you lived with your brother. Has something happened?”

Soleil looked up at Laslow, and he immediately saw that her eyes were filled with tears. “Oh, Daddy!” Soleil cried, launching herself into Laslow's arms. “Shigure's so shut up in his own head, I haven't been able to talk to him in weeks. He's hurting so much and I can't help him anymore! He still hasn't accepted that Mom is dead. Sometimes I have trouble accepting it too... but Shigure's _crazy._ He's gone totally mental-- before I left he was in the back alley of our building burning all his paintings! I knew I couldn't stay there anymore so I was hoping....”

“Oh, Soleil.... My princess, my darling. He must have snapped-- he and I... we argued in town just a few hours ago. I'm so sorry.”

“I'm sure it's not your fault, Daddy!” Soleil insisted. “Shigure is just.... it's not your fault. I don't think it's anyone's _fault,_ he's just....so nuts!”

Laslow sighed deeply. Xander realized he was intruding, and went to go put the horse away to give Laslow and his daughter some space. Laslow realized this and lowered his voice.

“He was _burning_ them all?” Laslow asked quietly, in disbelief. He had never known his son to be one for randomly starting fires. He never had any inclination that Shigure would commit arson for any reason. Yet here Soleil was, smelling of soot and ashes and claiming her brother as the culprit. Laslow remembered the smell of smoke he and his Lord detected earlier. “Oh, Shigure...”

“Yeah.... it's a real... well... Momferno.” Soleil joked weakly, and Laslow snorted.

“Silly girl... Soleil, I'm so sorry your brother and I don't get along. It's not fair to you and it's not fair to him. I wish I could see eye to eye with him. I really do. I'll go talk to Lord Xander. I'm positive he'll let you stay with me. I have an extra cot you can sleep in, we'll give you a job, maybe hire your men as extra guards around the castle, it'll be fine.”

“Thank you, Daddy. I'm sorry to drop in unannounced, but Shigure's just so difficult to live with lately. He's picky, controlling, anti-social.... he used to be so gentle and sensitive, but these days he just gets into these nasty moods and won't talk to me, won't come out for dinner, anything. And if I try to bother him, he snaps at me and sometimes even throws things. The birds don't nest outside his window anymore..... And you know me, I can't cook worth crap, so if I want to eat, I kinda have to beg Shigure to cook. I'm really tired of literally begging my older brother to be able to eat and I can't afford to keep eating out. It's like living with an abusive boyfriend, and I'm really not into that. On multiple levels. And I think he's behind on the rent, too. Our landlady is starting to get pissed. He lost his job at the shop he was working at because he was daydreaming on the job and he was rude to customers. I'm the one bringing home all the money, and I gotta tell ya, mercenary work doesn't pay well when there isn't a war to fight. I shoulda picked up a trade or something. At least you have a permanent position at right hand to the King. I'm _just_ a mercenary. I mean, sure, I lead a band of mercenaries, but again, we have no work. My men are all looking up to me to provide work for them and I just can't, not when there _isn't_ any. You're the King's retainer, you have a job that keeps you busy. I sit around in taverns all day waiting for job postings. I drink more than I work, Daddy. And it's starting to not be healthy. The allowance you give me only goes so far when I live basically all by myself. And I know you give one to Shigure too, but he spends all his money on art supplies. I think he goes through a tube of baby blue paint every day now. Art is an expensive hobby, and he's not bringing in any money to pay for it.”

“Mmmm, yeahhhh....” Laslow drawled slowly, “I have room and board included, too. Make no mistake, princess, I have a very cushy job, and it's one I quite like. Just the son of a traveling dancer who managed to rub elbows with foreign royalty.”

“You know, I bet being a royal retainer pays nice.” Soleil smirked.

“Shush, you little brat. I'll give you and your brother a bigger allowance, right now I'd like to get your things unpacked so you're not living out of a suitcase--” Laslow replied. “....Milord?”

“I can hear you, Laslow. Yes, she can stay. I'll figure out how to put her to work somehow.” Xander called over, brushing out the horse's mane. He put the brush down and trotted back up. “I'm sorry to eavesdrop.”

“No, you have every right.” Laslow said. “I'm just sorry that my family matters keep getting in the way.”

Xander smiled and shook his head softly. “Don't. It's alright, Laslow. You're my friend, and through marriage, my family. I care about you, and I care about my niece and I care about my nephew. Perhaps I can get through to Shigure. Where flesh and blood have failed, perhaps his King will be enough.” Xander offered.

“Perhaps. Though I'm not sure he'll be willing to open up to you. He'll be polite and even cordial to you but I highly doubt he'll say anything worthwhile. Shigure is very smart, he's a clever, calculating, and intelligent boy. I like to think he gets it from me.” Laslow said. He was holding his daughter close. “Talk to him if you can, but if he won't say much, just.... be gentle. He's in a lot of pain.”

“I understand, Laslow. Tomorrow. Tomorrow I'll make a trip into town, I'll have Peri accompany me so I am less suspicious to him, and I will seek him out.” Xander promised.

“I have our address.” Soleil supplied helpfully. “If you need it. But... I'm pretty sure you'll be able to follow the trail of broken and burnt canvases right to our back door.” She said.

“Soleil, I am sorry that it's come to this.” Xander said, looking remorseful. “I hope, in time, you and your father will be able to repair your relationship with Shigure. I'll do everything in my power to help as much as I can. You are, after all, my niece. I do not abandon my family, Soleil..... Hmm... in this light you look so much like your mother.... but I suppose you get that often.” Xander said, taking Soleil into his arms. Soleil hugged him around the middle.

“Oh.... Uncle Xander.... I just want Shigure to be happy but it's just so _hard....!”_ Soleil broke down crying. “I tried to stay optimistic! I kept thinking 'maybe tomorrow will be better'. But that tomorrow never came and it just got harder and harder to keep a smile on...!” she sobbed pitifully into his arms. “And Shigure's wasting away, too. He hardly eats, he just spends all his time in his room painting and singing to himself. That same song that Mom used to sing... the one that saved us all. If I gotta hear _'you are the ocean's gray waves'_ one more time I'm gonna crack like an egg. I'm serious. I mean, I appreciate the fact that the song saved all our lives and Mom had to die in order to protect us and all that, but it's his _only song,_ Uncle Xander. He's a record player with a crooked needle. And can I say something? I lost my mother too. It's not just him. I'm hurting too, and it's like he doesn't care. I feel the exact same way that he does, except he's turned to starving himself and painting pictures of Mom all night while I at least try to make it through my day. It's like he's not even trying anymore. Like he's lost the will to live, and I'm tired of it!” Soleil ranted. It was rare to see Soleil so angry, even rarer to hear her say anything negative about her family. But she was _tired._ “I'm just so tired....” she finished weakly, curling in on herself.

Xander nodded. “Then I will perhaps, take him to lunch. Force him to eat in a more public forum, where I can make sure he is at least eating on my watch. I will talk to him. I'll insist it's simply an outing for a man and his nephew. I'll ask to see his sketches-- no? No, I'm getting disapproving looks on that one-- alright, scrap the sketches. I'm just brainstorming.” That last line got Soleil snorting softly. Her laughter sounded just like Laslow's, or perhaps, what Laslow would sound like if he were female, deep and rich and with an almost noble bearing. Xander smiled. “There's that smile.” He commented blithely, pinching her cheek between his forefinger and his thumb sweetly, and Soleil giggled and whined and jiggled out of his grip.

“Uncle! Stop it!” She snorted. “I'm not a little kid anymore!”

“You must understand, Soleil. To us, you are still so young. It seems like only yesterday Azura let me hold you for the first time.” Xander said. “She said, 'I'm sure she'll like you' and 'go on, just hold them'. She handed both you and your brother to me and had me hold you two in my lap. And you immediately reached up and grabbed my crown and tried to pull it off of my head. And then you punched Shigure in the nose, and he started to cry.”

Xander stepped back. “I am sorry, Soleil.... I got carried away.”

“No.... that's okay.” Soleil said softly. “I don't remember that. I.... don't remember much about growing up. I think the Deeprealms did that too.” She said. “I don't remember much before I turned... fifteenish? I guess the Deeprealms kind of... mess with your ability to tell time, and it makes you forget things. I remember important stuff, like the time Daddy came to visit on my birthday, and he brought me a present even though he had no way to know it was my birthday. But.... it's nice to know that you remember.” She said. “I know you miss my mom too.... just like we all do.”

The next day, Xander was indeed able to follow the smell of smoke right to Shigure's front door. The fire had long since gone out, and Shigure had passed out on his messy bed, but the smell lingered. Xander knocked on the door. A subdued groaning issued from the back bedroom of the house, as Shigure had been jolted awake by the knock.

“Soleil? Soleil! Would you get that?” He heard Shigure's voice grumbling from inside. “Soleil! There's someone at the door!” It seems he hadn't even realized his sister was gone. The sound of rattling objects and shuffling feet sounded, and Shigure finally answered the door a few minutes later, looking half-dead as he opened the door with a scowl. There were dark bags under his eyes and he looked and smelled like he'd just burned a room full of paintings in his backyard. He smelled vaguely of oil and smoke, and the scorch marks were still all over the back alley. He had soot on his face and dirt and oil on his hands. “Lord Xander?”

And that's how Shigure found himself in a little pub out in daylight in east Windmire with Xander and Peri sitting across the table from him. Xander had forced Shigure to take a shower and clean himself up somewhat, and then dragged him into public. Shigure gave his drink order kindly to the waitress and she went to go put it in. “Lord Xander, I'm sure your time could be better spent than on me.” He said politely, if not a little bitterly, arranging his napkin and spoon nearly obsessively on the table in front of him.

“I highly doubt that's true, Shigure. You are my nephew, after all. Forgive a man his eccentricities, but I would like to get to know you better.” Xander replied.

“Oh, I'm actually quite boring, I assure you.” Shigure said in a nonchalant, almost cheerful manner. “I don't go out much.”

“So I've heard.” Xander said. “It's hardly healthy to lock yourself up in your room.”

Shigure cast his eyes away. His tone fell. “I... I know. And I've decided I want to try and be better. Did Soleil put you up to this?”

“No, Shigure. I put me up to this. I was not about to let my nephew succumb to the same trap I almost succumbed to. I care about you, but Soleil is _worried_ about you. Did you really burn all your paintings?”

Shigure tensed, and looked around. He forced his face to remain calm, and his fists clenched hard on the table. “I... couldn't look at them anymore. I couldn't keep living in my own head.”

“.....Your father misses you. Don't look at me like that. I know you and your father don't get along. But why?” Xander asked. “Laslow has done nothing but try to love you, and you keep pushing him away. He is your only remaining parent. Let him be one.”

Shigure made a move to get up from the table, but suddenly Peri was there, blocking his path out. “So I'm to be your prisoner?” Shigure asked, looking up at Peri but not really acknowledging her as anything other than an obstacle, rather than seeing her as a person he could reason with.

“No.” Xander said, and waved his hand. Peri moved out of the way. “If you really want to leave, you can.” He gestured for Shigure to get up from the table, but he didn't move.

Shigure picked up his fork and the food arrived. Peri sat back down next to Xander. “Milord, you promised there would be stabbing.” Peri huffed, crossing her arms in front of her chest and pouting like a child.

“Perhaps later.” Xander replied, patting her on the shoulder. Shigure shivered slightly. This man, technically his uncle, yet a stranger with authority. “Now Shigure... you know I'm right.”

Shigure slumped, his fork falling to the table out of his hand. “I know you are. I just... I've spent so long resenting him...I don't know how to let him in after so long.”

“It starts by talking to him. And without sarcasm or biting remarks. Like a human being. Sit down with him and talk to him. Initiate the conversation, and don't be offended when he unloads all the pain.” Xander explained. “Because he's hurting too. As much as you don't want to believe it, he did love your mother. Deeply, and truly. Just as much as you did. I officiated their wedding myself; I know the love in Laslow's eyes when he looked at your mother.”

Shigure looked down into his food. “I know.” He said softly. “I know he did. I just.... wanted somebody to blame.” Shigure sunk his head into his hands. Xander leaned across the table and placed his hands on Shigure's trembling shoulders.

“Everybody wants somebody to blame in times of hardship. But it can't consume you. Please, if not for him, then for me. Talk to your father and your sister. They miss you.” Xander prodded Shigure's fork with his own. “Eat. Your sister tells me of your poor dietary habits. She's worried about you.”

Shigure sighed and began to eat reluctantly.

“By the way, who's been taking care of your pegasus while you've been locked away in your bedroom?” Xander asked. “She seems to be doing fine.”

Shigure looked up. “I put her in a stable that's open to the public on the outskirts of town.” he admitted quietly. “Living for her was all I had, and they let me visit her whenever I wanted. They would also let me take her out whenever I wanted. I just had to keep paying for her space there and they took care of her for me. I told them my apartment didn't allow pets.” He chuckled bitterly.

Xander nodded. An unfortunate reality, but reality nonetheless. “Understood. Now.... you've cleared your plate. Excellent. Now, come with me. We're going to go sit you down in a room with your father and your sister and you can hash all this out with them. And then I'm going to find you a spot in the castle so we can keep an eye on you.”

“....Yes, sir.” Shigure agreed, standing at Xander's gesture and following along behind him.

“Milord, next time you promise stabbing, Peri wants stabbing!” Peri pouted on the way back. “Might hafta slaughter somebody! Might hafta stab!”

“Peri, relax. I'll enchant that training dummy when we get home. You can stab that. It bleeds just fine.” Xander replied.

“Awwww, but Lord Xanderrrrrr! It's not the ssaaaaaame!” She whined, flailing her arms wildly.

“Peri. Must I repeat myself?” Xander warned. Peri whined a long and loud whine before falling quiet, pouting atop her horse. Shigure followed along silently.

“So! Shigure, I hear you're also performing at my coronation ball, you and your sister. How's that working out?” Xander tried to change the subject and involve Shigure in the conversation.

“It's fine. Father's written a few pieces for me to practice. I can't say I enjoy them all that much, but I'm expected to perform them, and I'll do so to the best of my ability.” Shigure replied cordially, not really wanting to talk about the show but here we are talking about it, so let's not make Lord Xander upset by falling silent.

“Have you told him you're not interested in the pieces he wrote for you? Perhaps he'll be willing to compromise.” Xander suggested, tugging on the reins of his horse to bring him closer to Shigure's pegasus. The pegasus snorted and tried to take a nip at Xander's horse. Xander's horse reared and almost threw Xander off, but Xander managed to regain control of his horse just in time. “H-hey! Oberste, what's gotten into you? Calm down!”

“Hey!” Shigure scolded his pegasus, digging his heels into the animal's sides in a way he knew she didn't like. The pegasus neighed in discomfort and wiggled her tail in annoyance. “Marmalade, we talked about this. We don't bite non-winged horses just because you think they're inferior. You have a bad attitude.”

Marmalade huffed and snorted, but did not try to bite Xander's horse again.

“Sorry about Marmalade. She has a bit of a superiority complex. She's ornery sometimes. Anyway, Father made it quite clear that he wrote the pieces with me in mind, but I just don't like them. They're too _young,_ I feel like some simpering teenager. I'm not interested in love songs. I'm not interested in love at all, really.”

“And why not? A man your age should be looking for a wife, no? Isn't there anyone special in your life?” Xander asked.

“....No. And I doubt there will be, I'm difficult and picky and I'm just not interested in _people.”_ Shigure stressed that it was neither a man nor a woman he was looking for. “I'd neglect them. I'm not interested in love or romance. It's a nice sentiment, and maybe I could be romantic given the opportunity, but I'm just _not interested._ It's hard to explain. I'm better off alone.”

“So I take it your father isn't getting grandchildren out of either one of you.” Xander replied with a hint of a smile.

“Well, he's threatened Soleil with about eighteen kinds of death if she gets pregnant before she's married, but realistically he doesn't expect it, no.” Shigure replied dully. “Soleil is bisexual leaning _heavily_ towards women, I'm.... just me. I don't know what I am. I'm not …. _gay_ , if you were wondering. I'm not interested in love at all.”

“This is going to be a very....er.... intimate question, but--”

“No, I am not interested in sex. Never was. With anyone, not just women. I find the concept messy, cumbersome, and altogether repulsive.” Shigure replied before Xander could finish. “I think it's one of the biggest points of contention between myself and my father. I have no interest and even a revulsion of sex, and he flirts with everything with two legs, regardless of what's between them. It's like he doesn't have a filter at all and mine's set to maximum with no way to turn it off. I simply don't feel sexual attraction to people. It's... hard to explain. It's even harder to live with.” Shigure said regretfully. “Actually, one of my paintings I didn't burn is called Locked Away, it depicts a man in a prison cell while the rest of his community is having an large party outside, including drinks, food, and orgies. It was difficult to find models for some of the poses; I definitely confused a few prostitutes when I asked them to stop squirming and just lie down so I could sketch. I couldn't find anyone _but_ prostitutes willing to lie down naked and let me draw them.” Imagine being a prostitute looking for her next job when a vaguely effeminate man in Hoshidan-style armor asks you to lay down so he can sketch you, arranges your body carefully, sits down opposite you to draw, and then simply pays you and walks away. Tips you considerably, as well. Xander could see how that would be a confusing experience for anyone.

“Fascinating. The man in the prison cell, does he want to join the writhing throngs, or is he content in his cell, away from the action?”

“He feels trapped, that's for sure. He doesn't know if he wants to join them, but he certainly wants freedom. He wants the freedom to make his choice, and currently that choice has been taken away from him. He wants agency over his own life, whether he chooses to join them or not.” Shigure said, barely above a hoarse whisper. “Lord Xander.... am I broken? Am I supposed to want a partner?” He asked in a small voice.

“No, not at all, Shigure.” Xander reached out and put his hand on Shigure's shoulder. “You don't have to choose anyone if you don't want to. No one is holding a sword to your throat to try and make you choose. You are fully valid to live your life the way you choose to live it. It is your one wild and precious life, not anyone else's. And no one else can make the decision for you. Perhaps someday you will long for a partner. That is Future Shigure's problem. Right now, you need to live your life the way you choose.” Xander said. Shigure looked hopeful, and a smile came to his lips. A true smile, one that hadn't been seen since Azura's death.

“Does my father believe that too?” Shigure asked.

“Of course he does.” Xander said. “He loves you.”

Shigure nodded.

“Thank you, Lord Xander.”

“You know, you are allowed to call me Uncle as your sister does.” Xander smiled. Shigure shrugged.

“Perhaps another time.”

“Fair enough.” They came upon the castle. Shigure put his pegasus in the stable by herself to avoid any biting incidents, and followed Xander in. He heard some terrible, _loud_ sound, like the sound of a sword being dragged across a chalkboard, and then heard Laslow yell, “For Gods' sake, Odin! Turn it off!”

When Shigure entered the ballroom, he found Soleil looking embarrassed, flanked by Laslow and Odin. Odin had a spellbook in his hands.

“I'm sure I can make it work, or my name isn't Odin Dark!” Odin crowed, flipping the pages of the spellbook frantically. Laslow sighed and looked up.

“Oh, milord. You're back. Shigure.” He addressed his son. “You came here of your own volition?”

Shigure nodded. “I'm sorry.” he blurted.

“....What?” Laslow was struck dumb. Was Shigure that open already? What had Lord Xander said to him? He was cracking awfully easily for such a stubborn boy. No... a man, Laslow corrected himself. His son, a man, standing before him. Not just a boy, not just any boy, but an adult man who had his own opinions and thoughts and feelings. And an enormity of sadness in his eyes.

“I'm sorry. For what I said at the funeral. I'm sorry I've been distant, I'm sorry I've been cold. I... want to try and be better. For Mother's sake. Can you forgive me?” Shigure said softly, but audibly. Enough to get his point across. “I did and said a lot of things I didn't mean. I know how much you loved Mother... I know how much you adored her. I could see it in your eyes. But I'm still just a child in a lot of ways.... I may be physically older, but I don't have the wisdom you carry. The wisdom that comes with living through that sadness as you have. Mother was my first real, true loss, the first time it felt like a piece of myself had died with them. But she wasn't yours, and I should have respected that. Instead I lashed out at you, trying to make you feel the pain as acutely as I did, in some passive-aggressive way to make you realize how badly I was hurting. I wanted somebody to blame, and I chose you. I'm sorry. I know now that it was the wrong way to cope, and I hurt you very much. Can you ever forgive me?”

Laslow smiled softly. “Of course I can, my boy. You're still my son. You infuriate me sometimes, but all boys are supposed to infuriate their fathers. I'm sure I infuriated mine at least once. It's just how it is. Come here.” Laslow held out his arms, and Shigure leaned in for a tentative hug.

“Oh, yaaaaay!” Peri said, jumping for joy. “Peri knew it! This was a great idea! Peri's gonna go stab that training dummy to celebrate!” She ran off, a wild look in her eyes. Xander rolled his eyes.

“Laslow. Can I ask for your assistance again?” Xander asked.

“Dancing? Of course. It's about time for your lesson anyway. Come on, then.” Laslow trotted over to the record player and turned it on. Xander took his position following, and Laslow began to walk through the steps with him calmly and brightly. Shigure, Odin, and Soleil made themselves scarce, going out to the courtyard to finish trying to tune Odin's spell.

About halfway through their lesson, Xander and Laslow heard an absolutely stunning voice come rising from the courtyard. It was layered, with an odd buzzing over it, but it was beautiful. It still...sort of sounded like it was underwater, but instead of being muffled and indistinct, it was instead warm and distinctly _Soleil._

_Let me out, I'm trapped in a blur... started out the way I wanted but it's weird now, let me out, I'm lost in the words, too much in my head, I shoulda seen the bad signs...._

They gave each other a look and went outside. Soleil stood there, singing, while Odin chanted softly under his breath and kept the spell going, doing his best for a girl he considered family. Who _was_ family to him, technically. Laslow watched intently, his eyes unreadable. Shigure watched, genuine joy in his eyes, but also immense sadness. Soleil's lips were glowing pink, and her song lifted across the courtyard and throughout the castle. When it ended, Laslow had tears in his eyes, and they spilled down his face as he launched forward.

“Ohhhhhh, my princess!” Laslow grabbed up his daughter in a crushing hug, and the pink glow faded from her lips. “How beautiful, oh gods, you sound just like your mother.... I'm so proud, Odin, thank you, truly.”

“I..... I did it! I invented a new spell!” Odin cried. “I mean.... of _course_ I did, such is only child's play for a mage of my caliber! I am Odin Dark, and the power of my sacred blood has commanded me to magick this girl! Look upon my skill and tremble! May all who hear the name of my mighty spell know of it's power! _Autotune!_ ” Odin beat his chest with his fist and laughed a hearty, dramatic laugh. Soleil sniffled.

“Do I really sound like Mom?” She asked softly.

“Sort of.... You sound even better.” Laslow replied. Shigure lowered his head, and when Laslow looked over, he was crying. Laslow knelt by his son and put a hand on his shoulder. Silently, all the pain and the anguish passed between them, and then vanished, leaving only two tired and defeated men behind. Shigure looked up, weeping without shame or pride to hold him back. He had lost both long ago. And he was almost relieved to see them go.

“I just.... miss her so much.” Shigure managed to choke out between sobs. “And it caused me to be so cruel to the ones I love most....”

“I know. I do too. I miss her every day. And I'd be lying if I said that my own pain didn't also cause me to think, 'How dare they? How dare they be happy when I've lost so much? How dare they smile when I can only force a grimace?' But she wouldn't want us to be sad or to retreat within ourselves. She would want us to smile, no? Come on.”

“I'm just.... I need... I'm sorry and....”

“Shhhhh. Don't try to explain it. Not when it doesn't need explaining. I understand, my son. I know how it feels, and I understand. I lost my own mother at a very young age. I have felt this same ache in my soul, my boy. In my case, I at least had pieces left to bury.”

It took Shigure a good few minutes to regain his composure. “Father.... I have to tell you.... I... I really hate the music you wrote for me. It's just not me. I can't perform to the best of my ability if I can't stand what I'm performing.” He said firmly. Laslow looked taken aback, but he understood.

“Alright then.... how about you come up with something? I'm sure, given your obvious talent, you can come up with at least a few pieces in time, yes? I'll let you handle your own choreography and timing.” Laslow said. “I need two pieces out of you. That's all I'm asking. Two songs. They don't even have to have words; they can be instrumentals for all I care. But I need at least two to cover the time allotment, possibly three if you're feeling up to it, but don't feel obligated to give me a third piece if you simply are burnt out after two. Aaaaand I need them done in three weeks or less.”

“That's... better than I expected you to offer. I'll take it.” Shigure breathed a sigh of relief and passed the papers with the scores written down back to his father, who promptly ripped them in two and threw them in the garbage.

“Father! You didn't have to shred them. They were very nice pieces, they just weren't my style. I didn't say you had to ruin them.” Shigure said.

“Nonsense. You didn't like them. They were written specifically for you, Shigure. If you hate them, then they have no use to me. I didn't write them for me, Shigure. It's fine. I can't possibly expect the best of you when your heart's not in it. Write something yourself, my boy. I know you can.”

Shigure nodded... and smiled. “I hope to make you and Lord Xander proud.” He then crossed the courtyard and knelt down by his sister. “Soleil... I'm sorry for all you've had to go through over the past months. I was selfish, and I didn't think about how I must have been hurting you. I feel just awful about it now... can you forgive me?”

“Of course I can, Shiggy....” Soleil said, hugging her brother. “I know it's been hard on all of us. But really, if you stop eating again, I'm gonna guilt trip you and make you feel all bad, so don't do it.” She said, pouting. Shigure laughed.

“I think I can do that.”

“And listen.... I gotta tell you something.”

“I know. I was selfish. I didn't think about you. I know you were hurting too. I just... wanted somebody to blame. You're closer to Father than I am. So I guess I... blamed you too, a little bit. I guess I sort of.... made myself believe you didn't love her as much as I did because you weren't like me, lost and in bed all the time. And it was wrong of me.”

“Okay. That's what I wanted to hear. You're totally cool now. Hey, wanna spy on Daddy with me? You can see him through the window. Awww, look, he's crying.” Soleil pointed out Laslow through the window. “Awwwww, Uncle Xander is giving him a hug.”

Shigure was only half paying attention, instead sneaking to the garbage bucket to pick the ripped pieces of music out of the trash and put them back together. Well... this one wasn't _that_ bad. Shigure figured with a few changes to the score, and a better chorus, this song would be downright tolerable. He ran his fingers over the title. _Welcome to the Black Parade_ was scrawled on top of the page like a banner, with the score written underneath it. Shigure stuffed the score into his pockets quickly and pretended like nothing had happened.

Laslow had burst out into tears once he got back into the ballroom, and threw his arms around Xander.

“L-Laslow?”

“You talked to him, you got him to come home.... Gods, milord, you're such a _bloody_ saint....” He sobbed, and Xander almost melted. Xander put his arms around him.

“Shhhh.... Laslow, I only did what I could. It was killing you, watching your own son deteriorate. I knew if I couldn't do something, then what kind of King would I be? What kind of man watches his own nephew suffer, watches his retainer live each day in misery.... that's no kind of man to be. I'm a man of action, Laslow, you know this. You know this well. I know this well.”

Laslow broke off and cleared his throat. “Perhaps we should continue....”

“Right. Yes.” Xander put his arms up, and Laslow started the music again. Slowly, but surely, Xander was getting the hang of it. Xander was no longer tripping, and with the footprints in his head that Laslow had drawn up, it was easier for him to picture those steps.

“Very good! Very good, milord! You're doing so well! But you're still a bit too stiff. You need to relax.” Laslow chuckled. “Maybe I should get you high before we do this. You were so relaxed and upbeat.”

Xander shrugged. “Could be. As it stands, I've kind of got a headache.”

“Mmm. Coming down off a nice high can do that. You start to feel like shite for a while. What comes up must come down, yes?” Laslow explained. “That's why a lot of pot smokers become habitual users. I personally only use it socially or occasionally, but a lot of people who use tend to become heavy users of it. It's not really an _addiction,_ per se, as in the person does not _need_ it to function and is able to function without it, but it certainly makes some of the aches and pains go away, and it does have a habit of consuming your thoughts when you're forced to go without.”

“I could certainly use another hit or two, if I'm going to be doing this. Do me a favor and dope me up with as much as you can get your hands on before the ball. Who knows, perhaps I'll turn into some sort of dancing prodigy.”

Laslow snorted. “There is no such thing as a dancing prodigy, milord, save for my dearly departed Mum, gods bless her soul. Taught me everything I knew, and even if one is naturally talented, one must still work like an animal day in and day out to become as good as my mother was.”

Xander tilted his head and fell quiet for a moment.

“What is it, milord?”

“Nothing. I just.... how old were you when you lost your mother?”

“I was nine. She died protecting us from the Risen. I was nine, my sister was thirteen.”

Xander nodded slowly. “I was also nine when my mother passed. She.... she tried to quell a rebellion in Cheve. She died on the blade of a Chevois axe. It's... one of the reasons my father was so particularly cruel in his governing of Cheve.”

“Violence is no way to lose a mother.” Laslow sighed. “Especially not from your own countrymen.”

Xander blinked and shook himself out of his head. “My apologies, Laslow. I just.... sometimes the more I learn about you, the more I realize you and I have so very much in common, despite being ten years apart.”

Laslow sighed. “I know, my lord. I.... That is why I am choosing to stay by your side. My sister may be home in Ylisse, but she can live without me. And I think, if I am to stay here, then I can live without her. I'll miss her terribly, of course, but I can live happily here. I'm more happy here. And I think I can make you happier too, if I stay here. I mean, how else am I meant to keep this job I so very much enjoy? I'm certainly not commuting from Ylisstol to Windmire every day. I care for you dearly but I don't love you that much, milord. No, I'm staying right here in Nohr by your side. That's how much I care about you.” Laslow smiled gently, his eyes shining. “Besides, I can't just leave my children behind.”

Xander smiled. “Thank you, Laslow. Thank you.”

Laslow nodded quietly. “One more round of the waltz, just to tie everything together. You've learned it quite well, I'm very impressed. Next lesson, we're starting the salsa, which is a fast and sexy sort of feel. You'll like it. And a-one, two three...”

And they danced around again. Xander truly had a hold of the waltz this time, easily leading Laslow through the steps. “Excellent work, milord! Very good! I'm so proud.”

“I wish it were so simple as a single dance.” Xander sighed.

“I know, milord. I know.” Laslow patted his lord's elbow comfortingly. “But I still have... at least three more dances to teach you, four if that haughty noblewoman from Joltengluk comes to the ball, which I suspect she will.”

“Mmmm, I'm not a fan of the Joltengluk family either, they always seem to trip all over themselves and make problems for the rest of us, but in the end there's nothing we can really do about it. Just suffer their interaction and move on.” Xander sighed. “And yes, they are high-ranking noblemen and women, they will be in attendance at a royal coronation ball.”

“Alright, so I _do_ have to teach you the foxtrot, then. I didn't want to. That's a notoriously difficult one. But if that nasty woman is coming, you have to know it because she's going to know you don't know it, insist on it, and then make you look like a fool at your own ball, and as your humble retainer I simply can't have that.” Laslow said. “Therefore, that's the dance we'll go for next. I can put the salsa off to next week if I can manage to teach you the foxtrot in less than a week, which to be honest I have doubts about but I'm sure I can manage it....” Laslow trailed off, muttering to himself and pacing back and forth across the floor.

“I've got it. I'll push the salsa back to the last dance I teach you, that will give me enough time to drill you on the foxtrot before a quick review of the waltz.” Laslow announced.

“Figured all that out just now, did you?” Xander teased. Laslow did this in war meetings during the war, too. Would pace back and forth, seemingly forgetting the rest of the room was still there, until he came up with some brilliant idea that ultimately would save them all. And usually, it worked. Corrin used to go on and on about Laslow's brilliance. _(“And he's so quick on it, too! Xander, you've stumbled into something great with him, I can feel it.” “Sometimes, I think you're right, Corrin.”)_

Laslow blushed. “I did the pacing thing again, didn't I? Dammit.... I'm really trying to stop doing that.”

“You can't help it, Laslow, it's not your fault.” Xander comforted, patting Laslow on the head. “Now come on. Lunch.”

“Lunch!” Laslow echoed brightly, and followed along behind his lord.

Odin sat down next to Soleil. “Hey, Soleil.”

“Yeah?”

“Did your father ever tell you where we come from?” Odin asked. His voice was low, and his theatrics on the back burner for a moment.

“No, he didn't. Only that it was really far away from here, and that his mother died there. That there was a terrible war there.”

“Yeah. Sit down. You too, Shig, sit down. And let the mighty Odin Dark spin you a mighty yarn about the mighty land I called home, once upon a mighty time. It's high time you two learned of it. In a faraway land called Ylisse is where I hail from.....”

Shigure and Soleil shared a strange look, but shrugged their shoulders and sat down in front of Odin, who began his own greatly exaggerated tale of war and the undead, of Ylisse and Regna Ferox and Plegia and death and misery. And Shigure and Soleil learned more about their father, the lost prince of Ylisse, hiding his pain behind a smile so as to keep up the morale of his encumbered troops. Who would take the worst jobs for himself, so as to spare the suffering of his men. Who could bear the scars of battle but still dance on the bones of his enemies, who once danced home on a broken leg just to spare the pity of his own father. Who once managed to sweet-talk and fuck his way out of a prison cell in a bandit camp. He had even managed to pry and tease his equipment back from the prison guard before slaughtering the entire camp single-handedly and coming home with arms full of pilfered gold and supplies. _(“Surprise! I'm home!” “Inigo! Holy shit, we thought you were dead, man! We were like, in the middle of figuring out a way to rescue you.” “No need, my good fellow. Those bandits are a surprisingly good lay, even considering their state of consistent poor hygiene. Anyway, we eat like Kings tonight! Look at what I brought home from the bandit camp!” “Holy shit! That's our man, Inigo the Invincible! Gets himself caught by bandits and comes home with enough food for all of Ylisse, that's my man!”)_

Soleil and Shigure listened intently. So this was the true face of their father, who had watched his own mother die, who had been forced to slaughter and kill for the sake of survival, and come out still smiling on the other side. Still devoted, still loving, still nurturing, still giving the best of himself to others and never spending a second to be selfish, even when it benefited him. Shigure listened especially well. Yes, this was the wisdom he was talking about. The way his father knew his craft so well, and was truly much wiser than his years.

The next day, Laslow called his children in for a rehearsal first thing in the morning. Now that he had managed to finagle them both into the same room at the same time and in a state where they both could and would actually speak to him, Laslow wasn't going to waste a second drilling them until they could sing their parts in their sleep. Laslow had written a duet for them to sing (one that Shigure had agreed to), and now that Odin had invented and tuned the spell correctly, and had _thankfully_ written down instructions as he went along, any mage of the castle could cast and perform the spell adequately enough for a rehearsal. However, it would be Odin doing the spellcasting at the ball itself.

“Now! To the duet, you two! I need bright shiny faces, bright and shiny, come on! Chop chop!” He punctuated the 'chop chop' by clapping his hands twice loudly, startling his groggy children. Shigure swayed on his feet and jumped at the clap. Soleil leaned heavily on her brother for support and groaned.

“It's not even dawn, Daddy.... Can't we.... _yaaaaaaawwwwn,_ can't we at least drink some coffee first?” Soleil complained.

“Oh, alright. Coffee first. But then warm-ups! I need you both in top form, I need two hours out of you today. I have to teach Lord Xander the foxtrot. Do you both realize exactly how much I do not want to teach Lord Xander the foxtrot? But I have no choice but to teach Lord Xander the bloody foxtrot, so here I am at four AM making you two sing instead. I live vicariously through you, blah blah blah, I will make coffee and then you two will sing for my bloody amusement.” Laslow handed cups to both of his children and poured fresh coffee into them. The children sucked them down like the water of life.

“I can help, you know.” Shigure said. “I do know the foxtrot.”

“I know you do, I taught it to you. It's taken two weeks to teach Lord Xander the waltz, and now I have to teach him the foxtrot, the salsa, the tango, and run through his blocking during our performances, and I have to do all that in about three weeks. I am putting a lot of pressure on myself, so please, I would very much appreciate it if you could just do as I tell you and rehearse your duet.”

“....Do.... you have to be here while we rehearse it?” Soleil asked, confused. “Like, is this a performance or a trust exercise?”

“Oh, I'm leaving in about two minutes to go wake Lord Xander. You two rehearse amongst yourselves, preferably while I'm training Lord Xander in the same room, is that going to be a problem?”

“Well.... yeah, kinda. I mean, you're going to have interfering music playing while we rehearse.” Soleil replied. “If you expect us to do our best, we can't in that situation.”

“You have a point, dearie. Don't worry, I have a solution for that.”

And that's how Leo and his wife ended up erecting a magical barrier between the two halves of the music hall, separating Soleil and Shigure from Laslow and Xander.

“It's soundproof.” Leo explained to Shigure simply. “Just... don't run into it. It will hurt. I'm going back to bed. Nyx, honey?”

“Go ahead.” Nyx stayed behind to perform Odin's spell for Soleil's rehearsal. As Leo left, Forrest walked in.... saw the magical barrier, and immediately walked back out again. His question about the costuming at the ball could wait. They seemed busy.

“What is it, honey?” Nyx called from the stage.

“No, no. It can wait, really.” Forrest called back. He tilted his head to his mother and disappeared in a flurry of dark curls and puffy skirts. Nyx shrugged and opened Odin's spellbook.

“But wait, how is Daddy supposed to hear us if it's soundproof?”

“...Admittedly, we didn't think of that.” Nyx said with a deep sigh. “But I can hear you, and I can capture the rehearsal via magic and relay it back to Laslow if need be. I wasn't expecting to use quite _this_ much magical energy today, but I suppose I have no choice, if the coronation ball is to go off without a hitch. Now.... Oh, my.” Nyx looked down at the spell in her tiny hands. “Is that really the incantation? I must tell my husband to pick a less dramatic retainer next time. Do I really have to say this?”

“Please, Aunt Nyx?” Soleil asked. “I sound like a screeching cat without it.”

“Oh. Fine. You young people these days.” Nyx took on a rather goofy pose, (apparently it was in the instructions to do so), wiggled her fingers, and began to speak. “ _In fire red, and blackened blood, on bones of white in stinking mud, a song will lift, a light will rise, hope will form and come alive. Music reigns and lasts supreme, so Autotune, do thine deed!”_

Soleil's lips began to glow pink, and Nyx kept the spell going while Soleil began her part of the duet.

Xander, now having learned at least one dance under Laslow's tutelage, did better about learning the foxtrot. Now that he had the basics of the waltz under his belt, he was better about obeying Laslow's requests to relax and more easily picked up the steps.

“Oh, very good, milord!” Laslow said. “You're doing very well, I'm very impressed. Have you been practicing on your own?”

“No, I think your teaching is finally rubbing off on me, that's all.” Xander replied. “It's flattering to know you think I'm improving.”

“You are!” Laslow said. “I may be able to teach you an entire foxtrot in a week, then. At this rate I can teach you five dances before the ball. I won't be, but I could. Do you want to try something a little advanced? When you spin me around, try picking me up by my waist and holding me above your head for a moment. Yes, backwards, so my face is towards the ceiling.” Laslow demonstrated slowly, and Xander fell into place, picking him up with both hands by his waist and holding him up. Soleil jumped slightly from the stage, having not expected her father to suddenly be hefted up into the air like a sack of potatoes. Xander was an extremely strong man. Soleil closed her eyes and kept singing, now that her initial shock was over.

“Yes, just like that! Now lower me down, slowly, and turn me so it turns into me sliiiiding down like this, and yes!” Laslow nodded when he was in the correct position, held in Lord Xander's arms.

Nyx quickly turned the barrier opaque before Soleil could open her eyes. But Shigure noticed. He didn't say anything, only cast his eyes away and began his part of the duet.

“Yes. Very good, milord.” Laslow said softly, and slowly, they disentangled. “That was exactly what I was directing. Very good.” He slowly disentangled himself from Xander. “Oh, please! Don't be petulant!” He cried, looking over at the barrier, now opaque and blocking them from view. He pouted. Nothing untoward was happening. Not that anything untoward.... would.... right? Laslow shoved _that_ thought deep, deep down. Not now, Laslow. It's a bad time for several reasons.

“It's soundproof, Laslow. She can't hear you.” Xander chuckled. “Do you... want to run through that again?”

Laslow looked at him sideways, and ascertained... they both were thinking the same thing. “Yes, milord. Let's run through that routine one more time.”

It ended the same way, with Laslow dipped down in Xander's arms. “....Very good, milord.”

“Are you alright, Laslow?”

“Let's take a break, shall we?” Laslow plastered his grin back on his face. “You're doing incredibly well, I'm... very proud of you.”

Xander fell quiet and the two simply looked at one another for a moment, then remembered the barrier. Soleil and Shigure, along with Nyx, were right on the other side. They couldn't see or hear them, but if the barrier went down, they could. And both of them shoved something they couldn't name deep, deep down inside themselves. Was it grief? Or was it something else?

“Thank you, Laslow. That means a lot, coming from you. You're such a beautiful dancer. I feel honored to get to learn from you.”

Laslow smiled, his cheeks flushing a little. “No, milord, I'm just the son of a traveling dancer. I cannot reinvigorate the exhausted like my mother could. I cannot make them stronger, or fight with more conviction like she could. I can only use my body to an end. Whether that end is getting fed, getting laid, or getting even, I am able to use my body to that end. And I am always willing.” He looked up at Xander.

“....Will you dance for me sometime?” Xander asked quietly, softly, as if he was afraid to ask.

“....Privately?” Laslow replied, lifting an eyebrow.

“...Yes.”

“Well, it would appear I already have, milord.”

“No, Laslow. Not a dance you made for me. A dance made for yourself. The dances for me are nice, and I do enjoy them, but they don't capture your soul, the very essence of your being. Only you can do that.”

Laslow smiled, but his smile held a tension. A pain, and yet a new hope. “Perhaps, milord. If we come out of this unscathed, I shall show you the dance that my mother taught me. Only for you. I have never shown that dance to another human being. Not willingly. But for you, milord, I will. After the ball. When you are King, you will see me at my finest.”

“I look forward to it.”

“It is something to look forward to, if I may toot my own horn.”

“Consider your horn tooted, Laslow.”

“Now you're starting to sound like Niles.” Laslow raised an eyebrow but kept his shameless grin.

“Shall we run through that foxtrot one more time?” Xander seemingly changed the subject. “I feel... uneasy with certain parts. I would like to be at my best, if I am to be King.”

“Yes. Yes, let's.”

Finally, the rehearsal was over. Laslow listened to his children via the magical relay of Nyx once the barrier was down and found them to be adequate. “Good job, you two. Hit the baths, take a load off, you've earned it for now. But be back in here after lunch, yes? It's time to focus on your blocking and the choreography. I know at least one of you has been slacking on it, so I'll be giving you a refresher of what the dance looks like and you can follow along from there.”

“Yes, Father.” Both children echoed dully before trotting away, leaving Nyx alone in the room with the men. She looked up at Laslow, and peered over at Xander with eyes far wiser than her visage would suggest.

“It's not too late, you know. It's never too late. I mean, your little lives are so very, _very_ short. It would be a shame to waste it on what might have been.” She said cryptically, before tapping her way down the hall and into the study she shared with Leo.

“I'm terribly sorry, milord. I know she is your brother's wife, but she is _so_ creepy.” Laslow commented. “She looks like she's nine and talks like she's a thousand and nine.” He sighed.

“She's nice enough, in her own way.” Xander said. “And Leo loves her deeply, that's all that matters.”

“How nice for him.” Laslow replied with bitterness in his tone. “Sorry. That was rude. I'm very happy that your brother is so in love. It's heartwarming, considering his predilection for books over people. I just...”

“I know.”

And something passed between them, and they looked at each other.

“....Tea?” Laslow offered weakly.

“Right now? Let me bathe first, I've been dancing. I'll use the showers in the training grounds, it's faster.” Xander replied. “But then I'll take you to that cafe in town you like.” He ruffled Laslow's hair teasingly, before his touch turned more gentle, and he stroked Laslow's temple softly for a moment, just a second, but it said enough.

Laslow smiled. “May I join you? I'm quite sweaty myself, and I'd like to talk about the next dance you'll be learning.”

“Now, how can I deny a request from you, Laslow? Come along, then.” Xander offered his arm, and Laslow took it. As they walked, they chatted. They seemed perfectly at ease with each other, and anyone walking near them would notice that they kept perfectly in step with each other. They were best friends, even if the words had never been passed between them.

As it turned out, Laslow liked to sing in the shower. Xander had never noticed during the war, but he could hear him, singing something jazzy and upbeat in Feroxi as he shampooed his hair. His voice carried through the barrack showers, echoing off the stone and mortar walls.

Xander tried not to listen, tried to just stay in his own little shower stall, soaping his body and trying not to hear Laslow singing. He failed, miserably, and Laslow's voice carried to him and continued to strike him to his very soul.

_Oh tú, tú eres el imán y yo soy el metal, me voy acercando y voy armando el plan, solo con pensarlo se acelera el pulso, ya, ya me está gustando más de lo normal, todo mis sentidos van pidiendo más, esto hay que tomarlo sin ningún apuro~!_

Xander could not understand the words. They were foreign to him, in an accent he couldn't identify. But the rolling of the consonants, the drawling of the vowels, it was _beautiful._ It was sensational, it enthralled him. _Laslow was not human. Laslow was.... something more._ Xander felt almost weak, standing silently in his shower stall across the barrack. Xander picked up on the sounds at least, mouthing them under his breath to try and form his mouth to the same sound. He managed to at least follow along with the chorus, until he found himself singing along.

_Despacito, quiero desnudarte a besos despacito, firmar las parades de tu laberinto, y hacer de tu cuerpo todo un manuscrito...._

“Milord! Do you know this song? I thought you didn't speak Feroxi!” Laslow exclaimed when Xander's voice finally reached him.

“No, I don't. I was just... listening to you, and I picked up on the sounds. I don't know what any of it means.” Xander said, a little embarrassed that he'd been heard. He was sure he was butchering the accent horribly.

“Well, you were butchering the accent horribly--” _Gods-dammit. I knew it._ “--but other than that, you can actually sing fairly well. I'm impressed. I'll teach you the lyrics later. They're actually more complicated than I'm making them sound. Speaking Feroxi fluently involves dropping syllables and a lot of shorthand slang. You were doing an okay job, though. Don't be discouraged.” Laslow said brightly. “Would you like me to finish, my lord?”

“...Yes.”

_Pasito a pasito, suave suavecito, nos vamon pegando, poquito a poquito, hasta provocar tus gritos, y que olvides tu apellido...!_

Xander sang along, in his terrible accent, and Laslow chuckled. “No, no, milord. _Poquito.... a.... poquito.”_ Laslow said slowly, teaching Xander the words one-by-one.

“What do those words even mean?” Xander asked. Laslow laughed from his stall. “I recognize _quiero,_ you taught me that one. I don't know anything else.” Xander said.

“I'll teach you later. It's just an old Feroxi tavern song.”

Freshly showered and toweled off, they changed into fresh clothes. They had hardly any shame in the communal showers; during the war, everybody got to know one another _very_ well. Laslow remembered a few incidents of towel-whipping that had ended with two broken noses and house arrest. Laslow also remembered one argument between soldiers that involved insulting each other's manhood until blows were exchanged and Laslow was caught in the crossfire and ended up in the infirmary with a black eye after an offhand comment of essentially, “Ladies, you're both pretty”.

Still, that didn't stop Xander from noticing, out of the corner of his eye, Laslow's lithe and compact body bending to towel himself off and put clothes on. That tattoo shone out from his dark skin. _Beauty._ Xander shoved that deep down inside, on top of all the other times he'd noticed how ethereally pretty Laslow looked in Nohr's shimmering moonlight. Xander was slowly beginning to crack. He knew he felt something for Laslow, but he was terrified to put words to it. Laslow had been married to Xander's sister. And now Azura was dead. He felt shame, sullying his sister's memory by this feeling growing within him. And Laslow couldn't feel the same. _Shouldn't_ feel the same. _...Couldn't_ feel the same.... right? Laslow had just lost his wife. He wasn't ready to dive into anyone's arms yet. Right? Let alone the arms of the man who held him in his employ. Xander was to be a King. Xander was Laslow's boss. It was a bad, dangerous idea on many levels. Why did Xander care so little? Why did he want Laslow still, come hell or high water, and shouldn't he care more about the country he ruled?

“Alright, milord, I'm going to be teaching you the tango. The tango is a very.... well, it's a very intimate dance.” Laslow said, flushing a little. “But it's one I have to teach you, like the foxtrot. It's a much more angular and powerful dance. It involves lifting and supporting your partner, as well as allowing them to support you. It's a dance that's danced very closely to your partner; your bodies are touching at nearly all times.” Laslow explained, carefully averting his eyes. “I'm going to teach you an advanced tango, so I beg you to pay attention to each step as I explain it.”

“I'll do my best, Laslow.” Xander tilted his head.

“Of course, that's all I can ask of you. We'll start the tango tomorrow, after a review of the foxtrot.” Laslow crossed his arms in front of his chest. It was as if he was shoving something down deep inside. He looked pained.

“Laslow, are you alright?” Xander asked, taking a step closer and reaching out. Laslow reeled back suddenly, as if burned by Xander's touch.

“Sorry. Sorry....Sorry.” Laslow mumbled. “.....Milord, what's the appropriate waiting period after your bloody wife dies to start dating again?” He cast his eyes to the side and hugged himself nervously, rubbing his arms and looking altogether uncomfortable.

Xander blinked. Oh. Perhaps Laslow wasn't as unready as Xander thought. Xander found it difficult to speak. “Um.... I wouldn't know, Laslow. I've never been married, nor have I ever lost a spouse. However, if you're feeling especially lonely, have you tried a whorehouse? I know there are at least a few in Windmire who know your name, Laslow.” Xander replied dully. Laslow snorted.

“You've got me there. No, it's not sex I need. Well.... alright, yes, I've been pent up for bloody months, but that's not the point. I need a human connection. After Azura died, it felt like even the thought of being with anyone else would be dishonoring her memory, and that's the last thing I would ever want to do. I loved her. I did love her. And I still do, truly, I think I always will somehow, but she's gone now. She can't come back. She's.... she's gone. And as much as I want to believe she wouldn't want me to be lonely, the truth is I don't know what Azura would have wanted, and it's not like she can answer any questions. I hardly need _permission_ to feel bereft, do I?” Laslow asked in a small voice. “Sorry. I didn't mean to unload on you. I just needed to vent, I think.”

“Laslow, you can always vent to me. You are my dearest, closest friend and my truest companion. Anytime you need an ear, I will be there, Laslow. Come hell or high water... I will be there for you.” Xander put his hand on Laslow's shoulder, and Laslow very nearly burst into tears. He barely managed to keep his composure.

“I miss her.” Laslow said, voice hoarse and soft. “I should never have let my heart run away from me... but I did, and I can't change that. Wouldn't be the first relationship I've had that's ended badly.” Laslow sighed, and Xander took his hand from his shoulder to place it upon Laslow's cheek and tilt his head up. Laslow instinctively leaned into his touch. They shared a look, and again Xander saw the faintest shadow clouding over Laslow's right eye. He was curious, but said nothing. He had been told of Ylisse's royal brand, and recognized the shadow as such, but said nothing. It seems the spell that altered Laslow's appearance had missed a spot, perhaps.

“Perhaps you should seek another partner.” Xander said softly. “At least there would be someone there to chase away the old dreams.”

“But then who will chase away yours, my lord?” Laslow replied. “As it stands, all you have is me. And all I have is you.”

“My poor, bereft Laslow.... don't you have any family at all?” Xander asked. “Lost your mother, your father, your sister is so very far away...”

“Well.... I do have a cousin. But he's a bit odd.” Laslow smiled. “And he's been casting spells on my daughter.”

Xander laughed. “Odin?” Laslow laughed and nodded.

“My first cousin on my father's side. His mother, Lissa, was my father Chrom's sister.”

“That's hilarious.” Xander commented.

“Innit?” Laslow chuckled. Then his face fell. “Don't pity me, though. I deserve better than your pity, no?”

“That is right. You deserve more than my pity. You deserve the world on a string.” Xander pulled Laslow into his arms, and Laslow almost melted into his touch. He hadn't been hugged like this in a long time. An all-encompassing hug. The last time he had felt so safe, he was in his bassinet at Ylisstol palace.

Laslow looked up at his lord. “Lord Xander, I will never leave you. I am not a Nohrian man. I am Ylissean and Feroxi, and proud to be so. But I hereby swear my fealty only to you, only to Nohr, for the rest of my days.”

“I accept your fealty, Laslow.... and I cherish it.” Xander replied. They embraced tightly, for just a moment. Then they heard the training ground come to life outside the barrack showers. It was drill time for the wyvern brigade. Xander and Laslow managed to slip out the back before the brigade went in to shower. No need for the brigade to see something they shouldn't.

They reconvened in Xander's chambers yet again. Laslow was beginning to know Xander's room better than his own. “That was close.” Laslow said. “Last time I got caught in the wyvern brigade showers, it was that incident in which two noses got broken and I ended up under house arrest.”

“Laslow, getting towel-whipped is not a justifiable excuse to slam a copper pipe into a man's face.”

“In my defense, he called me names too. He had it coming.” Laslow pouted. Xander chuckled.

“I can't stay mad at you. It's so unnatural to see a frown mar your face, Laslow.” Xander reached out to touch Laslow's face gently once more. “Laslow, I....”

Laslow looked at him knowingly. “Don't. I know, milord. You don't need to say it.” Laslow covered Xander's hand on his cheek with his own. “I'm choosing to believe this is what she would want. Whether it is or it isn't; she's not around to give that answer. So I will choose to believe the answer that benefits me the most. I'm choosing to be selfish for once in my life. I've spent so long giving a mile while only gaining an inch.... I think I'm choosing to give the inch this time, and take the mile for my own. Allow a fallen prince to be selfish for once.”

“I wouldn't have it any other way, Laslow. Let's go into town and have that tea.” Xander offered, offering his arm. Laslow took it, and they ended up in a lovely cafe in upper Windmire, one of Xander's old favorite places. The tea was scented like jasmine and hibiscus flowers and the tea cakes were airy and light and tasty, flavored lightly like lemon and paired perfectly with their tea. There was a man playing the piano in the corner. Laslow kept staring at him.

“What is it, Laslow? You keep staring at the pianist like he's going to jump up and bite you.” Xander teased, tapping Laslow's shoulder to get his attention.

“Oh! I'm... sorry. I just... I know how to play the piano. I... I wonder if they'd be willing to let me play.”

“You're with me, Laslow. You can do whatever it is you please.” Xander smiled, and flagged down the barista behind the counter of the little cafe, slipping him a tip and asking quietly in Nohrian if Laslow could play. The bartender nodded and gestured for Laslow to sit at the piano, shooing the other pianist off stage gently. The pianist looked a little put-off, but when he looked over, the soon-to-be-King was standing there nodding. So, he simply shrugged and let Laslow climb up onto the stage.

Laslow grinned widely, sat down, and began to play. As he played, he was singing. Xander felt a stab of jealousy. He almost wanted to keep Laslow's voice to himself. But that wasn't fair. Wasn't fair to Laslow most of all.

_In the light of the sun, is there anyone? Oh, it has begun. Oh dear, you look so lost, your eyes are red when tears are shed, this world you must've crossed, you said “You don't know me, you don't even care...” Oh, yeah! You said, “You don't know me, you don't wear my chains!” Oh, yeah...._

When Laslow was finished, the cafe _erupted_ in raucous applause. Laslow flushed deeply.

“That's all, Laslow. Don't panic. Come on back.” Xander encouraged gently, holding out his hand. Laslow took his hand and Xander guided him down off of the piano seat. Laslow sat back down in his seat at the table and let the regular pianist continue playing.

“Is that another song to be performed at my ball?” Xander asked. Laslow nodded quietly, still flushed.

“A more recent one of mine, yes.” Laslow answered softly. “Did you enjoy it, my lord?”

“It was beautiful. But you really mustn't give away your whole set list before the show, yes? After all, is the performance not meant for me?”

“I promise, that's the last one you get a sneak peek to. The rest, you have to wait.” Laslow grinned. Xander laughed. The barista jumped. He'd never heard Xander laugh before.

“Then I shall wait patiently.” Xander paid their tab, and they left, Laslow dutifully carrying Xander's cloak, as it had become too warm in the cafe to warrant it. The barista looked over at his manager.

“I've never heard Prince Xander laugh before. I'm starting to think that retainer of his brings out the best in him.”

“Good thing, too. Prince Xander's wound up tighter than a Izumite clock and needs to loosen up a little.” The manager replied, turning a page in his newspaper idly. “And I don't know the retainer that well, but rumor has it he's a young widower with two babies to take care of. I remember him coming in here and buying a round for the house when his son was born about two years ago, and again when his daughter was born. I heard a few rumors that the son was born out of wedlock, but they got married before the daughter was born. I hope Prince Xander pays the kid well.”

“A young widower? Oh, how terrible. Aw, I hope he's doing alright. Must be rough. Did you hear how the wife died?”

“Not sure, only that it was during the war. I'm guessing she was a casualty of war or something. Probably at home with the kids when the Hoshidan army came barreling through. Poor kid.”

“Must have been. Poor thing.” The barista resumed cleaning out a glass with a rag. “Well, Prince Xander tipped me really well, so I'm gonna take off after I'm done cleaning. Maybe pick up some flowers for the wife. It's been too long since there's been a smile on her face.”

“You do that. I can handle things from here. Go ahead.” The manager stood up and took the glass from his employee, and the barista put his hat and coat on and left the establishment.

The next day, it was back to work for Laslow and Xander, and Laslow was currently drilling Xander on the waltz, which Xander passed, and then the foxtrot, which he still had some difficulty with but managed to get through.

“Alright, so your foxtrot is a little shaky but we'll be practicing that more before the ball. Your waltz is very good, though. I'm quite impressed. I'm going to start the tango.” He started the music, and took Xander's hands, sweeping him into a tango. Xander had trouble at first, but managed to pick it up as the dance went along.

“Very good, milord! Now _lift--!”_ Laslow jumped slightly, and Xander caught on that he was meant to be holding him up, and lifted and swung him around gracefully until Laslow's feet landed quietly back on the floor. “Excellent! Now I have to do that to you.”

“Laslow--” Xander gestured between them. “You can't lift me.”

Laslow raised one eyebrow, stared at Xander with dull eyes, reached out, and, wrapping his hands around Xander's midsection, deadlifted him over his head. Xander yelped and clung to Laslow's hands for dear life.

“Good Gods!”

Laslow gently put Xander down. “Lord Xander, have we not had this discussion rather recently? I'm of a divine bloodline, same as you. I have strength within me. I'm built for dexterity, not power, but I'm very strong. Remember that time I hefted a dead horse off of an injured soldier before he suffocated on the battlefield?”

Xander nodded. “Right, yes. I forget you're stronger than you look.”

“Now, I'm going to lead, and you're going to gently swing about and then land back on the ground.”

Laslow led Xander in a sensual, tight and fast tango, and Xander found himself swept away by Laslow's roaming hands and hot breath on his neck. By the end of the tango, Xander was quite flushed, and so was Laslow. Laslow quickly retrieved his hands and stood at attention with his hands clamped tightly behind his back.

“Hoo. Perhaps I... got a bit carried away.” Laslow admitted sheepishly. “My apologies, my lord. I... my hands shouldn't have been half of the places they were.”

“No. No, it's... fine. I.... you simply have a very, er.... hands-on teaching method.” Xander replied, still feeling Laslow's hands on him. It made his skin crawl, but not in disgust. Rather, he felt as though his skin were burning, burning with desire for Laslow's hands to touch him again. Everywhere Laslow's hands touched, he left sparks in his wake. It left Xander breathless, dizzy, almost feeling drunk on the sensation.

Laslow stared at him for a moment, then let out a deep and tired breath, dropping his hands and falling into a slump. He looked up, cheeks flushed, yet eyes dull. “Milord, I'm tired of this. This dancing around, pretending we don't know what we're doing. Pretending like we're not both wildly turned on and giving ourselves bloody blue-balls every single day because we can't communicate like human beings.”

And there it was. Weeks of dancing around, their relationship hanging by a single thread.... and that thread had broken, dropping Dionysus' sword on both their heads. And Xander knew exactly what they both wanted but had been too afraid to ask for. They needed a serious talk.

“I agree. Laslow, you were _married_ to my _sister_. I think we need to talk about that.”

“Yes. I was. And she is currently dead, and call me a pessimist, but I don't really, realistically see that changing any time soon. It's not like I'm being unfaithful... right?”

“Right... I mean.... dead women cannot object.”

“I'll admit, I do still feel guilty. Am I dishonoring her memory, getting so close to you? Am I... hopping into bed with my dead wife's brother, or am I simply moving on after a loss?”

Xander stepped forward, and took Laslow's hands in his own. “I choose to believe the answer that benefits me the most. Allow a prince to be selfish for once.” He smiled softly. Laslow echoed his smile.

“Give an inch, take a mile.” Laslow murmured. He leaned up, and Xander captured his mouth in a perfect kiss. Laslow threw his arms around Xander's neck, and Xander wrapped his arms around Laslow, holding him so close he threatened to absorb into his being entirely. When the kiss broke, they simply stopped and stared, reveling in it for just a moment.

“I would have you... stay with me tonight, Laslow.” Xander murmured.

“It would be my greatest honor.” Laslow replied. “We'll finish the tango tomorrow. Perhaps I can simply keep you to myself at the coronation ball.”

“Yes, keep me for your own, Laslow. I would be honored.” Xander murmured. Their faces so close, bodies still wrapped up in one another, readying for another kiss.

“Oh!” came a voice from behind them. Both men jumped nearly out of their skins. “I'm so sorry, Uncle Xander, am I interrupting?” Xander whipped around to find Forrest, his dear nephew, dressed in a simple house-dress and beret, with his face exceptionally red.

“Er....”

“We, um, were just...” Both Xander and Laslow sputtered ineffectively. They had been _caught._ In this story, this wild fanciful ride they had been on, they never expected to get _caught._

“I'm so sorry, really, I am. I won't tell a soul, if that's what you're worried about. I promise. I'm just here to handle Sir Laslow's costuming for the ball.” Forrest said. “He asked me to come weeks ago. I've just been so busy working on everyone else's costuming.... Sir Laslow slipped through the cracks until now. I was trying to get in the other day but you were busy with rehearsals and there was magic involved and I just... didn't want to interrupt.”

“Right. I... forgot I had asked you to come, Prince Forrest.” Laslow said. “Sorry you, er... Sorry.”

“No, it's fine. Really, it's for the best. Uncle Xander's been so stressed out! It's good he has you.” Forrest smiled brightly, cheeks still a little red. Laslow chuckled.

“Y-Yes.... precisely. Lord Xander, I'm terribly sorry, but I did actually ask Prince Forrest to help me with my costuming, do you mind?” Laslow asked tentatively.

“I suppose I have no choice, do I?” Xander sighed.

“I really am sorry.”

“No, it's fine. Do what you need to do. But I'll be waiting for you, Laslow.” Xander couldn't help but to steal another hot kiss, right there in front of Forrest. Forrest squeaked and turned red again, covering his eyes with his hand politely. Xander then trotted off, perhaps to complete some of the paperwork that's been piling up on his desk while he's been torn apart in his own head.

“So! What do you have in mind, Prince?” Laslow asked.

“Well, I made this really sexy leather number I think my uncle will appreciate, given that kiss you just shared.” Forrest teased. Laslow blushed.

“Yeah, try to keep that on the down-low, would you? We don't exactly know how my children will react. Yes, you remember I have two, yes.”

“Right! Shigure just moved into the room next to mine, he shares design ideas with me all the time now. He told me he's trying to do better. He's eating now, anyway. I usually try to make him eat. I've taken to checking on him every few hours, make sure he's still breathing. I hope I'm not overstepping my boundaries. He seems to appreciate it, anyway. Soleil and I share hair care tips, she's doing much better at combing it out. Soleil and I are already great friends. But I do hope to complete the set, if I may use that term. I'd like to be Shigure's friend too, but I fear I may be butting in where I'm not wanted.”

“No, not at all. Befriend him, I beg you. I would thank you for that. He's a stubborn boy, gets it from his mother.” Laslow said. “Now, you said sexy leather number?”

“Oh, yes!” Forrest pulled out a sketchbook filled with designs. “If you sign off on them, I can have them all done by the ball, fitted and everything.”

“Oh, my. That is a sexy little outfit, isn't it? I take it you used your Aunt Camilla as a reference?”

“She's taller than you but you're both roughly the same build. Muscular, but compact. I used her armor as the base, then modified it to fit a male model.” Forrest explained, going over his draft sketches. “Of course I made it realistic, I'm not going to give you giant shoulders or something. Honestly, some of the armor here, it's like they think bigger is always better. Not always. Sometimes less is more.” Forrest said with a wisdom beyond his years.

“I like the heels.”

“Mm, I thought you would. She told me you borrow her clothes a lot, so I modeled it off of her wardrobe.”

“I like the studs on the vest, too. I would be absolutely stunning in this. Do you have a hair and makeup plan as well?”

“Please, did you think me not thorough? I am Leo's son.” Forrest scoffed. “Of course I have a hair and makeup plan. I'm _me.”_

“I should have never doubted, Prince.” Laslow chuckled. “By the way, you're dressed rather plainly. I know you to be a fashionable boy, but I've seen plenty of maids wear that same outfit. Feeling a little down today, Prince?”

“No, just... it's laundry day.” Forrest sighed. “All of my good clothes are in the wash. It was either this house-dress, or my formal suit that Father makes me wear to events.”

“You're always welcome to ask us retainers to wash a thing or two. We're retainers, it's our job to do what it is royalty asks of us. I'd be happy to handwash a few delicate items. I already handwash a lot of my own clothes because I don't trust some of the butlers clomping about this place.”

“Well, that's awfully thoughtful of you, Sir Laslow, thank you. I may have you take a few dresses of mine when you go to do laundry next.”

“Absolutely. I'd be happy to. I know Odin would be too. Don't bother asking Niles, he'll do things but you have to pay him in flattery and gold.” A small, almost inaudible snort echoed just barely from the rafters of the ceiling. Laslow rolled his eyes.

“This looks good for the second act of the finale. I can provide my own props, don't worry about that. May I ask for a small sample of the leather you're using for the trousers? I want to match my props to my costume as best I can.” Laslow reasoned.

“Absolutely, I actually brought all of my fabric samples right here.” Forrest reached into the front pocket of his gown and pulled out several fabric squares and a clip to hold them together. “This is the leather I'm using for the trousers. I'll need tight measurements of both of your legs. Nobody is perfectly symmetrical, and this is a custom fit, so I want to get it as close to your actual measurements as possible. Now, the trousers are going to be very tight to your skin, will that impede your movement at all?” Forrest asked, pulling out a measuring tape and beginning to crouch to measure Laslow's inseam. Laslow opened his legs a little wider to accommodate.

“Not as long as there's something between my skin and the leather. A cotton lining, perhaps. Or some sort of bodysuit. Otherwise I'll chafe horribly and I won't be able to continue dancing.” Laslow replied. “I mean, I'll do it anyway, but I won't be able to walk for a week after the show. I quite like the use of my legs.”

“Okay, I'll keep that in mind while making the final measurements. Wow, you're really easy to talk to. Some people I try to measure just... squirm all over the place and stay quiet.”

“I've been measured for costuming before, is all.” Laslow said. “And thank you, I pride myself on being as personable as I can be, given my circumstances.”

“Okay, I think I have the measurements for your legs... now for your arms.” Forrest said. Laslow raised his arms at Forrest's request. Ah, yes. Odin liked to call this his “T-pose” maneuver. It did do a good job on the battlefield of utterly bewildering and intimidating the enemy, which was Odin's point, in a way. When Odin cornered an enemy, just standing there with his arms raised, the enemy often surrendered out of bewilderment and confusion.

Laslow raised his arms further to allow Forrest to measure his chest and abdomen. Forrest scribbled down the numbers in his notebook, and hummed to himself.

“By the way! Prince Forrest, I can't thank you enough for doing this for the ball for free. I insist, you have to let me pay you for your work.” Laslow said.

“Nonsense. Your money's no good to me, Sir Laslow. I need not money, I have plenty of it. I am royalty. I need not of gold. But what I enjoy is seeing my work displayed. And this performance is the perfect excuse to display my greatest work yet. I couldn't be happier!”

“If you're sure, Prince Forrest.”

“Oh, please. Stop calling me Prince, it's so stuffy. My name is Forrest. Just call me Forrest.”

Xander's next lesson went extremely well, now that Xander was no longer afraid to handle Laslow the way Laslow plainly expressed he _wanted_ to be handled. “No, I'm not kidding. The point of the tango is it's a domineering dance. Manhandle me. Spin me around. Lift me. Put your hands in inappropriate places. That is the essence of the tango.” Laslow lectured. “It's a dance meant to convey the fire between two souls. It's the flickering flame of a roaring hearth. It's making love in front of the fireplace late at night when the moon is high. It's passion incarnate.”

“Well... alright, if that's what you wish.”

“Milord.... My Xander.... I would love nothing more.” Laslow chuckled.

Now, Xander had it. Under Laslow's careful instruction, he had his feet and his heart in the right place.

“You've done it! My sweet Gods, you've done it right. I'm so proud!” Laslow cried, jumping into Xander's waiting arms.

“I couldn't have done it without you, Laslow. Any other teacher would not have been able to give me the teaching I needed. Only you. Thank you, Laslow.” They kissed sweetly, so in love.

“ _Ahem.” Shit._ Had they been caught again? It would appear so, and by no less than.....

“ _Shigure_! Shit, I--”

“He was simply--”

Shigure put up a hand, effectively and immediately silencing the two baffled and stunned men before him. “Save your excuses. I saw this coming a mile away, ever since Lord Xander couldn't seem to _shut up_ about you at lunch the other day. I will admit, I'm upset, and a bit disappointed _,_ but in the spirit of trying to be a better person, I've chosen to believe that it is what Mother would have wanted. Mother wouldn't have wanted any of us to feel sorry for ourselves on her behalf. Mother had a purer heart than that. So I'm choosing to believe that it is fate.” Shigure said plainly. Matter-of-factly, as if his words held no value. “So, by all means, don't let me stop you from celebrating. As to the reason I'm here. I'm here for rehearsal? I have a new piece I'm practicing, I'd like to get your opinion on it.”

“Of course, my boy.” Laslow squirmed out of Xander's grip and landed gracefully on the floor. “By all means, show us.”

Shigure stepped up to center stage, and his unwavering professionalism was in its glory as he began what appeared to be a drunken, staggered version of a waltz with himself, tumbling across the stage as he sang. It was clear Shigure had inherited his talent from his father. Just like Laslow's, Shigure's voice was smooth, with perfect pitch and emotion behind him that it seemed only Laslow's son could truly convey. Even Azura didn't have quite the skill for performing that Laslow and Shigure shared. She was wonderful, yes, and her skill was renowned, but she was _technically_ perfect, less so with emotion behind her.

_Mama.... come here, approach, appear, Daddy, I'm alone, 'cause this house don't feel like home, but if you love me, don't let go....If you love me, don't let go..._

_Hold, hold on! Hold onto me. 'Cause I'm a little unsteady, a little unsteady!_

At the end, Shigure sunk into some contorted pose that would have been painful, if not for Shigure's natural flexibility. Laslow clapped, a standing ovation of one.

“Shigure, that's what I'm looking for! That's the power I needed from you! Shigure, that was stunning! My boy, my son, you are your mother's son, through and through. Gods, she would be proud.” Laslow said with tears in his eyes. “You wrote that?”

Shigure nodded, uncontorting himself easily and standing up to his full height. “I know it's a touch.... depressing, but I... I'm still...”

“I understand. And it wasn't depressing, it was profound. A lot of profound things sound depressing at first. You had emotions swirling inside you that only those words could convey, and that's okay.” Laslow climbed up onstage. “Shigure, you're allowed to _feel._ Just don't let it consume you. Learn how to temper your feelings. It's hard; in fact, it takes a lifetime to master. Some people never master it at all. I certainly haven't. But you must always try to learn.”

Shigure nodded again. “Yes... truly, you are more wise than I. I'm sorry I mistook your wisdom for foolishness.”

“We all make mistakes, Shigure. We all make mistakes and I've certainly made a fair few of them. You were my first child, Shigure. It's not like I had practice first. Nobody had ever handed me a baby before and instructed me to keep it alive and happy. Let alone my own baby! I'll freely admit I'm not exactly an expert at parenting. I could have done a lot of things better. I could have visited you more often, for one. It must have looked like, growing up, that I favored your sister. I assure you this is not true. I love you just as much as I love Soleil. You are my child same as she. I do not favor one of you over the other.” Laslow said. “I could have taught you about your lineage, so you didn't have to find out through Odin and his overly-dramatic babble. Yes, I know he told you. He told me he did, and I don't blame him. But that's what the mark on your hipbone means. You are a prince from both sides of your family, Shigure. I should have been honest with you about that. Instead you grew up not with a father you trusted, but a stranger you knew nothing about who blew through every few years with a couple of cheap gifts and empty words. It makes _sense_ you would resent me. I would resent me, in that situation. An absent father with a wandering eye.”

“You could have remembered my birthday even _once.”_ Shigure griped.

“In my defense, the Deeprealms really.... it's very hard to tell time in there. I know when your birthday _is,_ in our time, but you grew up so fast that I was still thinking of a present for a seven year old when you had slipped into fifteen in the blink of an eye.”

“Alright, you have me there. I suppose I will always harbor a lingering resentment for you leaving me in the Deeprealms in the first place, but I know and understand why you did. The battlefield is no place for a child.”

“Gods, Shigure, every time you fought, I worried. I worried _constantly_. What if that day would be the day you wouldn't come home? A terrible, black day, where your mother and I would have to bury our son? It's unnatural for a parent to lose a child. It's meant to be the other way 'round, innit?” Laslow admitted. “And every time _we_ fought, my worry only grew. What if you shut me out completely, and I couldn't be there to protect you when you needed me most?”

“Perhaps I was so transfixed on the idea that I was an adult, and didn't need protecting, that I neglected my own need for a father.” Shigure murmured. “I'm sorry... I'm so sorry. I've been a horrible son. Please forgive me.”

“Shhhhh.....” Laslow stepped up and cradled his son's drooping head against his shoulder. Shigure was several inches taller than his own father, but that didn't stop him from crying into his father's shirt. He suddenly got an idea. “Shigure, would you give me one last chance to write a piece for you? I promise I won't make it sappy or something out of your range.” Laslow offered, tilting Shigure's head up to meet his eyes. Shigure looked up, teary-eyed and trying to contain his sobs long enough to let Laslow speak.”I mean,” Laslow started, “I know how much you hated the work I wrote originally, but just give me a chance.”

Shigure nodded, with tears still in his eyes. “Okay.” He agreed softly. “One more chance. Make it count, Father. I won't accept anything less than the best.”

“I would expect nothing less from Azura's son, my boy. You have her stubborn streak. I fell in love with that determination once upon a time. Let's see if I still have what it takes to impress it.”

Laslow set to work that afternoon. Xander had allowed his retainer the use of his study and stationary supplies. A small pile of crumpled parchment was beginning to grow at Laslow's feet around the garbage can, and he was scribbling furiously on a piece of paper in a beautiful, flowing script that Xander could not read. Then Laslow suddenly crumpled up that paper as well and pulled out a fresh sheet, muttering reproachfully to himself as he began scribbling down words again. _'Stop writing about love, Laslow, he's not interested in that. Write about rebellion, about anger and emotion. Write a song for a man with a fire in his heart. Yes, yes.'_

“Laslow?” Xander asked, watching him work.

“Shhhh!” Laslow hissed instinctively, “I am in the zone, milord!”

Xander peeked over Laslow's shoulder. Laslow had switched to writing in Common, and the words embodied Shigure perfectly.

_Is this the real life? Is this just fantasy? Caught in a landslide, no escape from reality.... Open your eyes, look up to the skies and see... I'm just a poor boy, I need no sympathy, because I'm easy come, easy go, little high, little low, any way the wind blows doesn't really matter to me.... to me...._

The words flowed onto the page, and under his breath, Laslow was humming the tune as he wrote the score with his other hand, putting his ambidextrous hands to good use. Xander knew Laslow was ambidextrous, watching him glide around a battlefield with his own sword in his left hand and one stolen from the enemy in his right, becoming a swirling, pirouetting harbinger of death that danced into your heart before ripping it from your chest still beating.

_So you think you can stone me and spit in my eye? So you think you can love me, then leave me to die? Oh, baby, can't do this to me baby, just gotta get out, just gotta get right out of here!_

“Perfect.” Laslow said finally. “It's perfect. Shigure won't be able to resist it.” He titled his piece, “Bohemian Rhapsody”.

Shigure read over the score as Laslow handed it to him. _“Beelzebub has a devil put aside for me, for me, for me...!”_ he sang the tune under his breath. “Yes, I like this. Excellent.” He said simply, without emotion. “I will perform this at the ball. I will do so to the best of my ability. I will also be choosing my own chorus, I assume.” He side-eyed Laslow.

“By all means. As long as you're ready by the ball you can do anything you want in your free time. Travel to Cyrkensia, find some talent. I know you can recognize talent when you see it.” There was still a residual bitterness when they spoke to each other, a bitterness that would never fully go away. As long as Azura slept in the great beyond, Shigure and his father would never have a perfect relationship. But it was improving, slowly and steadily. At least they were talking to each other.

“Good. I'll pack my things for a trip to Cyrkensia to recruit my chorus.” Shigure took the score and walked away with it.

“Make sure you come back, child!” Laslow warned playfully as Shigure left. “I need you, you know.”

Shigure slipped out the door and disappeared down the hall, rolling his eyes as soon as he was out of sight. Laslow grinned shamelessly. “Did you see that, milord? He likes it!”

“He seemed rather unenthusiastic, actually.” Xander replied. “Is he always like that?”

“He would tell me if he didn't like it, milord, believe me. He may have some issue with the 'so you think you can love me and leave me to die' line, but I'm sure he'll find a way to get over it. I have faith in his ability to get off his high horse. Well... Pegasus.”

Xander was picking up dances far more quickly now, and breezed through the salsa once Laslow showed it to him once or twice. “Very good, milord! You're doing so much better lately, it's phenomenal! I'm so proud.”

Xander chuckled a little bitterly. “Perhaps I just like hearing someone have pride in me for once. My father never did.” He muttered. “Perchance that's the motivating factor.”

“Oh, milord. Are you having a bad day?” Laslow asked, and Xander cast his eyes down. “Well, that's alright. Let's take a break. You've definitely earned it.” Laslow sat Xander down with some tea in his study.

“So, talk to me.” He said, sitting opposite Xander in his study. “Did you have a bad dream?”

“It was... more like a memory. I was... reliving that fateful battle....” Xander shook his head violently, as if trying to shake the memory out of himself.

“Oh, milord. The number of nights I've relived fateful battles... I understand. Do we maybe want to sit around smoking pot and drinking wine again?” Laslow asked. Xander snorted.

“No, Laslow.” Xander said, and then thought for a moment. “Actually....”

“Sounds like a good idea, yeah?” Laslow grinned shamelessly. “Ten minutes, milord.” He leaned in for a soft, chaste kiss, then skittered out of the room. Xander watched him go with a look of pure adoration in his eyes. He hated watching Laslow go, but he loved to watch him leave. He looked out his study window into Nohr's dusky, dirty sky.

“Azura... I regret I never got to get close to you while you were alive. I wish I could have done so many things better. That I could have talked to you more, learned more about you. Please... I'm choosing to believe you want this for me. Please, send me some sort of sign that I'm not a fool.” He begged the empty air, desperately and almost in tears. “Azura, I love him. I have loved him for so long. Please, send me a sign that I'm not doing you a dishonor by courting him. I know you loved him. You must understand that. You knew what it was like to love him. Please... give me your blessing.”

Out his window, he saw Shigure leave the castle atop his pegasus, his bags packed for Cyrkensia. In Nohr's dusky moonlight, he looked just like his mother. A beam of moonlight reflected off of Shigure's naginata, strapped to his back in case of trouble. Xander could swear he saw Azura smile down at him. Shigure appeared as an angel in the sky, shining white armor and winged horse against the darkness.

Laslow let himself back into the study. “Milord, I'm back.” He said merrily. “I hunted down Niles and bought us something very nice. The man does not make himself easy to find, but luckily I can always smell the weed on him at any given time.”

Xander chuckled. “I expect only the best, Laslow.”

“And only the best you shall receive. Come along then, let's smoke out your study and harass poor Carole down in the kitchens again, shall we? I've already warned her we're taking our lunch early.”

“Good job, Laslow. I'm proud of you, taking the initiative.” Xander said playfully. Laslow laughed merrily. “Anyway, I've just seen Shigure leaving.” Xander commented idly.

“Leaving for Cyrkensia, yes. Cyrkensia has a lot of people like Shigure. Lost, confused, lonely souls, sensitive souls like his. He'll be at home there. I'm sure they'll welcome him in and teach him more about the world.”

“Shigure will like Cyrkensia, I'm sure.” Xander agreed, taking the glass water-filled pipe that Laslow offered him, and the book of matches.

“Thank you again, Lord Xander, for taking the time to talk to him and convincing him to come home. I've been worried sick about him, and when Soleil came back crying and talking about how he wasn't eating, I.... Gods, I was worrying myself into fits. I love my son, I really do. He is my flesh and blood; of _course_ I love him. What kind of father would I be if I didn't love my boy?” Laslow sighed. “But it's so hard to talk to him sometimes, and I know what it's like, I've been that age before, but his circumstances were so much _different_ than mine. He grew up in a safe house surrounded by servants and tutors, which was how I was _supposed_ to grow up. Instead, I grew up on the battlefield, doing _horrible_ things just to survive. I'm sorry you had to intervene on my behalf.”

“Not at _all,_ Laslow.” Xander stressed. “Laslow, I was happy to talk to my nephew. I was happy to convince him to come home. His home is here, in the castle, with you, and with his family, not some shoddy flat in lower Windmire. He is royalty and his place is here. But I do agree he needs to learn more about the world he lives in.”

“Which is why Cyrkensia will be good for him.” Laslow accepted the pipe back, passing it back and forth between them as they talked. Carole came in, gave them their lunches, and flicked Laslow's ear when he jokingly made a pass at her. Xander laughed. Laslow still couldn't behave himself.

Soon, the food was abandoned in favor of wine, drinking and smoking until Laslow landed himself in Xander's waiting lap. Xander's hands moved of their own accord, mapping Laslow's sides and hips.

“Mmmm, hey now. Perhaps we've had enough.” Laslow wiggled to be put down. However, he made no move to truly get up and leave.

“I... I'm sorry, Laslow. Did I overstep my boundaries?” Xander asked earnestly.

“N...No, I just... perhaps. I'll admit, I'm wildly turned on right now but I still hesitate... I only hope I'm not being the world's worst husband. I mean, I'm nobody's husband now. But still....”

“If we were to sleep together, right now, would you regret it in the morning?” Xander asked.

Laslow thought about the question for a long, tense moment. “No. I don't believe I would.” He answered honestly, with genuine love in his voice.

“Then let me kiss your worries away. Let me in, Laslow.”

“...Yes....” Laslow leaned in for a hot kiss, and Xander pulled him closer by the hips. Laslow began unbuttoning his doublet and pulling it off, followed by his shirt. Xander's hands mapped every inch of Laslow's perfect dark skin, while his tongue mapped the inside of Laslow's hot mouth. Xander scrambled to find purchase for his hands on Laslow's slim, compact hips, and Laslow shivered with delight as he was gently tickled by Xander's eager fingers.

And Gods, he was hard. Xander could feel every inch of Laslow's hard cock pressing against his own. Xander had never been with a man before, but he was sure he could figure out the mechanics of it, at least. After all, he had the same equipment, so to speak. In theory, he knew a man's body better than a woman's anyway. He knew what he himself liked, at least, and he was sure Laslow would teach him more.

Xander reached down to grope Laslow through his trousers, and Laslow broke the kiss to let out a hot, needy little groan in the back of his throat. “You like that.” Xander observed, and did it again. Laslow bit his lip to stifle his moan.

“ _Fuck.”_ Laslow swore, “It's been a long time since I've had any at all. I fear this may be over quickly. Mmm, _please_ don't stop...!”

“Come when you need to, Laslow.” Xander pulled Laslow free from his trousers, and stroked him eagerly. Laslow jerked out of his grip with a hiss of what sounded suspiciously like _pain,_ and not the good kind. “What, what did I do?” Xander asked rather stupidly for a man of his status, stopping completely, immediately.

“Here, in my vest...” Laslow reached over to where his clothes had fallen and retrieved a vial of oil from inside his clothes. “Use this.”

“Ah. I was chafing?”

“You have the hands of a swordsman, milord, and what a fine and great swordsman you are. But a swordsman's hands are not very conducive to a pleasant sexual experience, at least not without the use of plenty of oil. Your hands are _rough,_ milord. A man's cock is sensitive. You have one; you know this.” Laslow said bluntly. Xander had to laugh. Only Laslow would be so blunt and honest with him. And Xander needed that honesty, needed that blunt attitude to keep him tempered. Xander chuckled, coated his palm with the oil and stroked Laslow again, and this time Laslow jerked into his grip, his hips bucking into Xander's hand. “Y-Yes, ohhh, that's more l-like it, ohhh... _mmmmnnnn~!”_ Laslow shivered and bucked, and Xander could feel himself growing harder the more sweet hungry noises Laslow made in his lap.

Laslow looked down at Xander and reached clumsily for his cock. “Mmm, let me touch you, my lord...” He breathed, and Xander allowed Laslow to undress him piece by piece, until they both sat nude in each other's arms. Laslow looked down at Xander's cock in awe. “ _Wow!”_ He exclaimed. “Oh, Gods, you have blessed me on this day.”

Xander flushed. “Stop it, Laslow. It's not a saint's relic. You've seen it before.”

“Mmm, never in this context. I've been with men before, you know. I know a good cock when I see one. Gods above, nobility really does live in the blood. Come here with that thing.” Laslow clambered on top of Xander again, and Xander allowed himself to be pushed back and thoroughly kissed, Laslow's lithe, compact little body grinding and rubbing in all the right places. Xander broke the kiss for a breath of needed air, pushing Laslow's head to the side so he could kiss and nibble at his throat. Laslow let out a rather effeminate squeak of surprise when Xander bit down on his neck rather roughly, leaving a mark that would likely bruise and turn into a massive hickey that Laslow wouldn't be able to hide. Luckily, the thought turned Laslow on like the roaring fireplace next to them.

Laslow took both his own and Xander's cock in his hands, stroking them together. Xander bucked and jerked in surprise, but soon was overcome with the sensation. “Mmmph, does it f-feel good, milord? I can m-make you f-feel s-so good...” Laslow had a filthy mouth in the heat of it, seeming to know all the ways and all the right words to drive Xander mad with desire.

“Y-Yes, aaah... _hhnn...”_ Xander panted desperately from his place on his back, his chair tipped dangerously back against his desk, beneath Laslow's beautiful writhing silhouette above him, washed in candlelight and bliss.

“Gods, I am your loyal servant, let me serve you in this most base of ways.... _mmmmmnnn!”_ Laslow shivered, and Xander could feel Laslow's cock twitching and pulsing against his own, and Xander couldn't help but cry out, and the absurdity of how desperate they needed this release built up, until they both came with a cry of each other's name, clinging to each other as they rode their first orgasms in many moons out to the horizon. Laslow seemed to ride his orgasm for longer, still grinding and panting long after Xander had gone soft.

“Ooooohhh.... ohh... ohhh.... oh _Gods,_ I needed that so fucking badly....” Laslow admitted breathily, coming down from a rather fantastic orgasm. “I was pent up for so long, and we kept getting _interrupted_ before, and all I've wanted is the chance to come with you.... Oh, Gods....” Laslow panted. “And... maybe it's strange, but I... I think I do love you. And... I just... I love you.”

Xander smiled a smile of pure joy and love. “I love you as well, Laslow. Don't think about what might have been. Think of now. I love you.”

Laslow suddenly burst out into tears, sobbing pitifully into his hands. Xander was taken aback and almost jumped out of his chair in surprise. “Laslow?”

“I'm s-sorry! I... the grief.... Just g-give me a m-minute...” Laslow stammered through hucks and sobs. He slowly regained his composure, taking several minutes to rub at his eyes and wipe his tears away. “Sorry about that... I think I was just hit with a... weird wave of 'oh my sweet gods my wife is dead and I just slept with her brother'.”

Xander couldn't help but laugh a little. “I asked you if you would regret it.”

“Mm, and I still don't change my answer. I don't regret it. I don't, really. I love you. But you have to admit, it's a little scandalous. The soon-to-be-King, tumbling into bed with his retainer, who also happens to be his former brother in law. The media will have a field day with it.” Laslow sighed. “I just don't want to shame you, my lord.”

“Never, Laslow. Never _could_ you shame me. Love is not a shameful thing and giving yourself to the one you love is not a shameful act.” Xander said seriously. “Besides, every royal sleeps with their retainers; it's almost expected. I mean, I'd like to believe Elise doesn't, but for all her childish behavior she is technically an adult and can do what or who she likes. Leo's married now, but before he met Nyx he was in bed with Niles half the time. It's no secret.” he explained. “Or perhaps you're worried because Azura was my sister. I assure you, you are not being dishonest or disloyal to her memory.”

Laslow sighed. “Alright, milord. If you insist.”

“I promise you Laslow, we'll cross any bridge as we come to it. And perhaps we'll burn it down on the other side.”

“Mm, I quite like the idea of that. I've burned a few bridges of my own, what's another to add to the kindling?” Laslow murmured, wrapping his arms around his lord. And they kissed again, soft and sweet, and a single tear squeezed out of Laslow's eye to slip down his cheek. His remaining grief seemed to lift from his shoulders. He let out a long, beautiful sigh. _I'm the luckiest man alive._

Their next lesson only went better. The tango was a success. So was the waltz, the foxtrot, and the salsa. Xander was becoming better and better, and he was so much _happier._

Shigure eventually came back to the castle a couple weeks later, an entire entourage of performers and talent behind him like a procession. Flying in on pegasi, riding in on horses and carriages, and even one performer showing up via falicorn. Color and singing and dancing and sheer _expression_ was exploding before the castle, and Shigure taking point, his white pegasus looking like an angel against the moon, leading the wayward and lost to their new home.

“Shigure, good Gods! I expected one or two, not a battalion!” Laslow said in surprise as the local inns were suddenly overrun with Cyrkensian performers. Cyrkenia had truly come to Nohr this time, and this time it was in merriment rather than war.

“I've written two more pieces while out in Cyrkensia, Father. And they're _masterpieces._ I'm very proud of them.” Shigure said, in a much brighter tone than Laslow had heard in his son's voice in quite a while. It seemed Shigure's trip had gone well. Shigure's eyes were shining with a brightness to them, a new hope for a future he had thought was lost.

“I take it you had fun, then?” Laslow teased.

“Fun? Father, I....”

And suddenly there were two dancers on Shigure's arms, giving him kisses all over his face, as much as he squirmed to avoid them. “Shiggy, hunny, thanks so much for bringing us all the way to Nohr! We'll perform our very best, just for you!” And they were gone as quickly as they appeared.

Shigure cleared his throat awkwardly and wiped the lipstick off his face with a handkerchief. “A lot of them don't get the hint I'm not interested in them personally.” He admitted. “It's hard to explain to a lot of people that I am truly not interested in sleeping with them.”

Laslow smiled. “You are valid, my son, any way you live. If my family line ends with you, then at least I can die satisfied that you are living authentically to yourself, my son. Anyway. They were _lovely,_ do you have their names?” Laslow was peering over Shigure's shoulder to sneak a peek at the women trotting away in their pretty heels and dresses.

“Father. That's my musical talent you're ogling. Desist.” Shigure pouted. “And their names are Lily and Peony, they're sisters. Their older sister is their manager, I had to take her with me as well. She's over there; her name is Violet.” Shigure pointed out a woman not unlike Camilla with long flowing hair and a pretty little pout, only instead of applying makeup or slaying a swath of Hoshidans, she was scribbling down numbers. She presented the sheet to Lord Xander, who looked it over. A paltry sum for a King, but probably a fortune to the girls. He nodded, handing the sheet back. Violet looked satisfied and trotted away behind her sisters, probably to tell them how much money they'd be getting for performing at a royal coronation ball.

“Well, Shigure, my boy, I knew you had it in you. I'm so proud. Why don't you and I do a little bar-hopping tonight, a father and son, and we buy a few rounds for all your new friends, eh?” Laslow offered. Shigure resisted the urge to reject him rudely. Instead, he sighed and took a deep breath in. Don't snap, Shigure. You are meant to be healing, and so is he.

“I'm not particularly interested in drinking.” Shigure said calmly. “I'm not that big of a drinker. Soleil drinks more than I do, why don't you take her with you?”

“One night won't kill you, my boy.” Laslow coaxed. “Sure, you'll have a helluva hangover tomorrow, but you'll survive. Besides, I know my own daughter fine. It's my son I want to hang out with this time. A night of revelry to celebrate your return from Cyrkensia.”

“Oh.... alright.” Shigure relented. “In the spirit of bonding.”

“That's my boy! I promise, I won't make you smoke anything, just have a few rounds of ale with me. Gods, I regret not being a bigger part of your life, I really do. But you're a strong and wonderful man, Shigure, don't forget that, alright? Your mother, at least, raised you well.”

They ended up in a bar that offered for its patrons to perform on the small stage set up if they desired. And luckily, a fair few of Shigure's musical entourage were in that very bar. And Laslow had coaxed his son and his new friends up onto the stage, and Shigure shrugged. He took a shot of something brown and burning to steel his nerves, and said something to his entourage. They nodded and took their positions.

_This is gospel for the fallen ones, locked away in permanent slumber, assembling their philosophies from pieces of broken memories....The gnashing teeth and criminal tongues conspire against the odds, but they haven't seen the best of us yet...._

The song had meaning, a message, and Laslow was thrilled. Had Shigure written that? It was phenomenal!The dancers had lined up behind Shigure, their arms outstretched. From the front, it looked like Shigure was a multi-armed divine being of some sort, many arms forming elaborate symbols and sigils in the air as they moved with Shigure to create illusions and background singing.

_This is gospel for the vagabonds, ne'er-do-wells and insufferable bastards, confessing their prophecies, led away by imperfect imposters....oh, oh-oh-oh-oh-oh, don't try to sleep through the end of the world, don't bury me alive, 'cause I won't give up without a fight.... if you love me, let me go!_

The pub erupted in applause as they finished. Men and women alike were clapping Shigure on the shoulder, giving him hugs and throwing flowers at him. Laslow managed to push through the crowd and take his son's face up in his hands proudly.

“Shigure! My son! My own flesh and blood, did you write that?”

Shigure nodded and accepted a flagon of ale that a big burly man pushed into his arms. “Oh! Um, thank you! An ale is...” Shigure, slightly drunk by this point, was counting on his fingers awkwardly, trying to figure out how much to pay the man.

“On the house!” The man insisted instead, smiling brightly. “Anyone who gets the house all riled up like that gets one free. No charge!” He said, clapping Shigure on the back triumphantly, which almost knocked the wind out of the slim sky knight and spilled half of his ale down his shirt. Shigure almost tripped forward, but Laslow managed to catch him.

“Whoa there, my boy. Have you had too much to drink already? We've barely begun!” He laughed. Shigure pouted.

“I told you I wasn't much of a drinker, Father. I don't have a high tolerance to mind-altering substances like you do.” Shigure reasoned, wringing out his shirt onto the floor. “I think it's that shot that did me in. I'm a little dizzy, to be honest.”

“Alright, alright. Sit down and get some food in your system, and you'll feel better. Trust me, get something greasy and disgusting, it'll help.” Laslow said, sitting his son down in a booth and calling over the waitress to get him something full of grease and meat.

“I'm not that big a meat-eater, either, Father. Goodness.” Shigure pouted. He had felt ignored this entire time, as if Laslow didn't care enough to bother learning how Shigure operated.

“One night, Shigure. For one night, just let yourself go.” Laslow chuckled softly. “It's a party, after all. Get sloppy drunk. Fall all over yourself. Humiliate yourself. We're all doing it. Look at that guy over there. Passed out right on the ground, and does he look bothered? Not in the slightest. Just let yourself have a good time, Shigure.”

“I don't _need_ alcohol and meat to have a good time, Father. It seems like you do.” Shigure said rather coldly. “No... I shouldn't say that. I'm sorry.”

“No... No, you have a point. I've spent a lot of my life being _fucked up_ beyond reason. But like I said, you're valid to live your life any way you choose. I'm just asking for one night from you where you live your life like me. Put yourself in my shoes, and have fun the way I have fun. Then, when we get together again, you can teach me how to paint, how does that sound? I'll sit patiently and learn and perhaps I'll paint you something nice sometime.” Laslow said.

Shigure nodded. “Alright, but I warn you, I'm as strict as they come!”

“That's my boy! You get that from me, I know it! Yes, Shigure! Yes, be as strict as you can. I'm going to need it.” Laslow grinned brightly and turned to the crowd at the bar.

“Soldiers of fortune, drinks on me!” Laslow crowed at the top of his lungs, waving his ale in the air for a wild toast, and the crowd went wild with clapping and cheering.

“Domestic! Nothing imported!” The bartender clarified loudly, before he was swarmed.

The poor wait staff in the tavern were nearly overwhelmed, but Laslow kindly got up from his seat and offered to help them out. Most of the wait staff turned him down, insisting that it was their job, though one very heavily pregnant waitress did sit down in Laslow's seat to take a short break, and he picked up her items and got to work in her place, insisting to the management that she have a break, after all, “She's eight bloody months pregnant and you're having her run around this place? What cads! When my wife was eight months pregnant I would have walked on hot coals for her, and here you people are making this poor young lady work. She should be resting on a velvet couch, not wearing herself ragged working for little pay.”

“Hello.” Shigure said awkwardly, still sitting there. The girl perked and looked up.

“Oh, hello. Sorry, I didn't see you there. Is that man your brother?” She asked, watching Laslow work and serve drinks while also taking several shots himself between orders.

“My father. It's a long story, I assure you.”

“He's very upbeat, isn't he? After the war we mostly get soldiers with battle fatigue and all sorts of injuries. We get funeral processions too sometimes. It can be dreary.”

“I'm sure it is. War takes it's toll on us all.” Shigure agreed. “But yes, Father can be very.... excitable, I think, is a polite word.”

“He's a cock, is what you're trying to tell me.” The girl laughed.

“Y-yes, he's a complete cock, he dragged me here tonight, and I'm not having fun.” Shigure slumped. “But I don't have the heart to tell him that. He's my father, and he's trying to _bond_ with me, but it's a little too late, don't you think?”

“Awww, poor baby.” The girl struggled to reach across the table to pat Shigure on the head. “It'll be okay. He's only asking for one night, right?”

“I know. I just hate to think of what my head is going to feel like tomorrow.” Shigure sighed. “Anyway, enough about me. When's the baby due?”

“July.” The girl replied. She looked around 23, with curled brown hair and pretty green eyes. She was wearing makeup; Shigure could see the line on her neck where her makeup blended into her skin. And she was wearing eye makeup as well; nobody's eyelids were naturally purple. Large hoop earrings pierced through both of her ears, and she had a tattoo of a butterfly on her left wrist.

“....It's already late June.” Shigure said, perplexed. “Shouldn't you be on maternity leave?”

“I can't afford it.” The girl replied simply. “My lover left me when he found out I was pregnant. I'm all alone. I have to work for my future child. I'll likely go into labor here. It's likely my own fault. Should have waited for marriage and all that. But I didn't, and now I'm eating for two.”

“If it's money you need, take some of mine. I'm a prince, and I don't need it. Here.” Shigure pulled out his wallet, stuffed full from his time in Cyrkensia. Okay, so Shigure got a little lucky at one of the gambling houses in Cyrkensia. He knew when to stop. Sure, he'd lost all his money at one point, but he won it back plus some. He tossed the whole wallet to her, heavy with gold coins.

“Oh! No, I couldn't!” The girl tried to toss the wallet back, but Shigure wouldn't have it. He pushed it back into her hands.

“I insist. It's all money that would go to waste otherwise. Consider it a tip for sitting down and taking the time to talk with me. Not many do. I'm a bit of a boring person and sometimes I come off as rude. It's enough that some people don't like talking to me.” Shigure said. “I've recently been through a bit of a... dour experience during the war and I'm a bit depressed. I could use a friend, to be honest, and I'm good with kids. If you ever need a babysitter, feel free to drop him off at Castle Krakenburg. I live there with my father and my sister and my cousins and my uncles and aunts, it's all a big happy family. My Aunt Camilla especially will be more than happy to watch your baby.”

“O-oh! Y-you're N-Nohrian royalty!” The girl stammered. “As in, our Nohr Nohrian royalty?”

“I'm not from an Outrealm, if that's what you're asking. But yes, I'm Nohrian royalty. At least, I think I'm Nohrian.” Shigure said. “I know I look Hoshidan. My mother was kidnapped from Nohr as a child and raised in Hoshido. I get a lot of my eccentricities from her.”

“Ha!” Laslow's voice sounded. “My boy, you get the crazy from my side of the family.” He popped up next to his son, a tray of drinks in his hand. “Did I ever tell you my own father used to get outfits tailored to show off the Brand on his right shoulder? Or the time my mother stayed attached at the hand to my uncle Lon'qu one day because she was too nervous to remember how to let go? Perhaps I also neglected the time my aunt Lissa _put a frog in my father's bath._ My boy, you get the weird from me. Don't try to deny it.” He put a shot of some ominous clear liquid in front of Shigure and a glass of water in front of the pregnant girl. Shigure looked up at his father, then down at the shot, then shrugged his shoulders. When in Nohr, do as the Nohrians do, right? And it was a clear shot, so it couldn't be too bad, right? At least Shigure wouldn't have to deal with the taste of wood smoke in his drink. So Shigure took the shot, knocking it back and devolving into a coughing fit at the surprisingly _foul_ taste. Laslow quickly shoved a lime wedge into Shigure's mouth, and Shigure sucked on it until all the juice was gone, but the taste of the liquor still remained, burning on his tongue. “Wh-wh-what was that?” he managed to sputter, still coughing, and Laslow patted his son on the back to ease it.

“There it is, that's my boy. Tastes like hell, doesn't it? Yeah, not too many people have the capacity for tequila. Except my sister, of course. She could down a shot like nobody's business. As if taking a sip of water, for her.” Laslow laughed, then his face fell. A sudden wave of homesickness and nostalgia.

“Father?”

“Sorry.... wha.... what was I talking about?” Laslow suddenly seemed very sullen. Shigure sat him down.

“Father? Are you quite alright?” He asked, concerned.

“Yes.... yes, I'm fine. I'm fine now. Sorry. I... I miss my homeland, sometimes. But I've made a solemn vow to stay here, with my family, with....” Laslow trailed off. “Shigure, let's get out of here. I think we're both quite drunk enough already. Miss, thank you for your time. I hate to leave you working all by yourself behind that bar, but you're a strong lass, I'm sure you'll make it. If I ever find that deadbeat boyfriend of yours, I'll give him the old one-two, just for you. Take that money my son's given you. Get out of lower Windmire. Raise your baby someplace nice.” Laslow said earnestly, holding the woman's hands in his. “And remember us, one day.” He got up, and Shigure followed, Laslow leaving enough money behind to pay their tab and give a tip.

Shigure looked over his father, confused. “Father, what happened in there? You were suddenly so strange.” He took hold of his father's hands. Laslow looked a little lost behind the eyes.

“I'm fine, my boy. Just fine. I just got a little homesick for a moment. Ylisse is very far away from here. Impossible to get to by land, air, or sea. It took a great feat to get to Nohr, and while I do technically possess the chance to go back... I have a feeling I'm better off here.”

“Father... I may not understand it, but you do. Lord Xander _loves_ you. He _adores_ you, even I can see it.” Shigure said. “Don't leave us all alone. Don't leave me without both of my parents. You're my only remaining parent.”

“Oh, I know that. And I'm not going anywhere, don't worry. I've made my decision to stay here. That doesn't mean I don't miss my family sometimes. My sister... gods, you'd love her. She's a bit like you, actually.” Laslow smiled weakly. “Serious, has a sense of justice that's.... Gods, it's unshakable.” He took a deep breath. “She was my hero, growing up. Older, wiser, always was taller than me too, the bitch.” He chuckled bittersweetly. “Shigure, all I want for you is to be happy. Now I know that's unfathomable right now, it's unfathomable to me, too.”

“Father, what in all the worlds are you going on about?”

“Just... let me ramble. I'm drunk and I'm tired and I need to just... talk at you.” Laslow requested, making drunken hand gestures to attempt to indicate what he wanted. Shigure got the hint that he was meant to be quiet, and stood at a lazy attention, listening to Laslow's words. “I'm drunk and I'm tired and Gods, so _very_ existentially depressed.” Laslow slumped against the nearest wall. “She's _gone,_ Shigure. We didn't even have a body to bury. No closure, no peace. Every night I see her face, Shigure, and every night I spend... shall we say, out of my own quarters, her face gets.... fuzzier and fuzzier, like I'm forgetting her. And I don't want to forget, Shigure, I _loved_ her. I could make her laugh, she could make me _feel.”_

Shigure stood in the alley with him, listening to his father ramble on about his mother.

“Shigure, am I doing the right thing?” Laslow asked, desperately. “Moving on? Am I truly the _shite_ father I think I am?”

“No!” Shigure cried. “You're not a shit father, you never were.” He said passionately. “I know how much you loved Mother. I know how much you adored her, and losing her has affected all of us. You tried your best, and it was...”

“It _wasn't enough_. I tried to save her, Shigure, in that battle. I did. I know you know that! Just... let me _talk...._ and I heard you _wail,_ and Gods, what a heart-wrenching sound.... and I heard Soleil drop to her knees, and I saw the _pieces of her_ just floating off into the sky and... I couldn't even catch _one._ One tiny piece of the woman I loved, and it slipped through my fingers and disappeared. And I saw you, my children, with such horror in your eyes and I knew I couldn't protect you even if I wanted to. You both watched her die, just as my sister and I watched my own mother die, and Gods how I wanted to spare you from that! I wanted to fight so you didn't have to, and yet here you were alongside us, and I tried so hard to keep you from seeing such a sight as I saw but the harder I tried to push you away, the closer you came to that horror and now look at us. Two grown men in a back alley, and it's _fucking raining_ now and I'm a drunken sobbing mess....” Laslow devolved into tears, unloading all the suffering and pain he'd tried to hold back for so long. “And I love him, Shigure! I do! I love the man! And it _hurts,_ because what would Azura think? Am I truly just a shameless cheat?”

“No. You're not, Father. You're not a cheat. Mother is dead. Dead women cannot object. She is not _aware_ anymore. We think of the dead as though they are still among us, watching us. They are not, Father. The person, the woman who was named Azura, is gone. There is nothing of her left. She cannot object. You are free from her.” Shigure tried to explain rationally. “And Lord Xander loves you too.”

“You know, I plan to marry him. Someday. Somehow. I want you to know that. I married into the Nohrian royal family once, and by Naga herself I'll do it again.” Laslow said. “And then again, they also married into mine. And remember what I said, Shigure. You get the weird from my side of the family.”

“The Nohrian royal family is plenty weird, Father. But promise me that someday, maybe when your heart becomes too heavy, and you need to go back.... take us with you.” Shigure said. “Take us with you. Soleil and I.”

“....Yes. Yes, I will. I'll find a way, somehow.” Laslow caught his breath in that alley, rained on from above. “I'm sorry. Sorry you had to hear all that, sorry I went a little barney there for a minute. I'm very drunk and my emotions have been all over the place for months.”

“I understand, Father. Maybe a few weeks ago I wouldn't have understood. But Cyrkensia taught me that everybody has a story. Everybody has been through something. Nobody is perfect, and those imperfections are what make us human. And everybody needs something so _very....human,_ to get by. _”_ Shigure said. “I have learned so many stories, Father. Every one of the performers I brought back with me has a story. Would you like to hear some of them?”

Laslow nodded. “And perhaps, I'll tell you of my comrades too.”

Shigure and Laslow ducked into another bar, and sat down at a table. Despite how drunk they already were, both men ordered an ale and got to talking.

Morning had come and gone by the time they saw fit to go home, both staggering and leaning on one another for stability. Laslow dropped Shigure off at his own quarters, with a gentle request to Forrest to “please look after him and make sure he's breathing in a few hours? He's _extremely_ drunk.”

“Of course, Sir Laslow. Leave it to me! I'll take good care of him. I _am_ a healer, after all.”

“Mm, you're a saint, Forrest. Thanks.”

“You ought to get some sleep yourself, Sir Laslow. You look terrible.”

Laslow then stumbled into his own quarters, only to find them empty. All his furniture, all his belongings were _gone,_ leaving an empty room in their place _._ Still inebriated, he stumbled towards Xander's study. Peri was there standing guard.

“Whoa, Lazzy! You look drunk.”

“Thanks. I am drunk. Where are all my things?” He asked.

“Huh?”

“My _things._ My belongings, my _bed._ Nothing is in my quarters anymore.”

“Oh! Yeah, Lord Xander moved all your stuff into his room. Peri guesses... he just assumed, since you guys are smoochin' and all, that he would move your stuff. No biggie!”

“Oh. Wait, does the entire castle know about that?” Laslow asked.

“Preeeeeetty much everybody, yeah. Lord Xander told Lady Camilla, 'cause he had to for some reason, and then it just kinda spread from there. He told Peri too! He says he thought Peri should know. Peri is happy for you, but Peri doesn't really care what-- or _who--_ Lord Xander does as long as that pinchy skin between his eyebrows loosens up a little.” Peri shrugged. She didn't particularly care about the romantic lives of others. “Where were _you_ all night?”

Laslow sighed. Of course Lord Xander would have told his little sister. She probably already knew anyway, so telling her was just the natural next step. “I was in town with my son, we were having a bonding experience by drinking ourselves stupid. Now I'm extremely tired, and more than a little inebriated, so when Lord Xander comes out of his study, please tell him I've likely passed out drunk in his bed. Goodbye.” Laslow turned on his heel and wandered into Xander's bedchambers, where he promptly passed out, face-down in Xander's bed. When he awoke, he was _righteously_ hungover _._ He groaned and held his head in his hands, feeling for the nightstand. Xander had found him passed out and let him sleep, setting up a headache remedy and a glass of water on the nightstand. He downed the remedy, making a face at the taste. Yuck. Still, after waiting a few minutes, it did help. Those healers Lord Xander kept on staff really did their jobs well. He slid into Lord Xander's study, past Peri who was still keeping watch.

“There you are, Laslow. Feeling better?” Xander asked.

“Ugh, I never want to look at tequila ever again but I think last night went well. I got Shigure to admit I'm not as crap a father as he tried to make me out to be, anyway. Of course, I did break into a babbling, crying fit all over his shirt in the pouring rain. Luckily he was drunk as a skunk last night as well which means hopefully he won't remember the night his father broke down in tears in a back alley behind a bar.”

“Well..... that's good? That's progress, right?”

“I sure do hope so. I do love my son so very much, and all I want is his happiness.”

There was a long, tense pause.

“Lord Xander, I _love_ you. I love you so, so much, so much that it's killing me. I want to know you love me too.”

“Laslow... of course I do. What brought this on?” Xander asked, standing up to face Laslow.

“All these years, all I've needed is _something human._ I never got that with Azura. I got a wife who was melancholy and sad, with a burden behind her eyes. One I couldn't make happy no matter how hard I tried. I loved her, I truly did, but she was so.... sad, deep down. With you I get someone who understands me. Someone who listened to my story and still held me in your arms on the other side. I just... love you _so fucking much.”_ Laslow swore, trying not to break down into tears again. Xander shushed him softly and held him.

“I understand, Laslow.”

Laslow took a deep breath. “I know you do. That's why I love you so much.”

“Laslow, let me show you how much I love you.” Xander pulled Laslow close, kissed him hot and long and needy, and Laslow squeaked before groaning into the kiss. Xander ran his hands up Laslow's arms, feeling the strength and dexterity built into those compact, tightly-wound muscles just under his skin. Laslow was thin, but he certainly wasn't weak.

Laslow had confided in Xander (well, truthfully, Xander had _asked,_ his curiosity getting the better of him _)_ , just before leaving to go into town with Shigure, that he and Azura had only slept together twice in the entire time they had been married. Azura had gotten pregnant both times, and had refused any further advances. Being a decent man, Laslow had never tried to pressure or force her to do anything she didn't want to do (though he did try seduction several times, with little to no success). But deep down, it left Laslow feeling neglected. He still loved her, but he grew up in an environment where random, heedless sex was the only real way to show how much you cared for someone with the threat of violent, dark-god-related death always hanging above your head. There was no time to learn each other's ways in that environment, there was only desperate fucks on the eve of terrible battles and hushed blowjobs behind the mess tent late at night where you were sure you wouldn't be caught, but the thrill of the possibility of being caught with your trousers down always excited you, didn't it?

He felt bereft, pent up, and he had made several callous comments that had almost always ended up in some sort of argument. And when Azura got angry, truly angry, (which she did not become often), she had the capacity to become violent. Often times, Laslow would leave the quarters they shared to drink in the local taverns just to avoid having plates and stemware thrown at his head. She was a gentle soul, but she knew how to defend herself, and she knew how to gain the upper edge in a fight. She was a songstress, but she was no pushover on the battlefield or at home. Her naginata had been displayed on the wall of their quarters same as Laslow's sword. Laslow _loved_ her, he _did,_ and he knew Azura loved him too, but to say their marriage was altogether happy would be a bold-faced lie.

They had _never_ let their children see them argue. For all Shigure and Soleil knew, their parents loved each other. And they did, but it wasn't without its problems. And that lingering resentment is another reason why Laslow felt so guilty about the whole thing. He felt like a terrible husband both during her life and after her death. He felt guilty, as though he couldn't reconcile their relationship now and it was all his fault. He had begged Azura's forgiveness at her gravesite, but it all felt like it was for nothing. How could she possibly answer? She couldn't, and Laslow wasn't sure at this point if she _would,_ given the opportunity. He felt conflicted but also so in love. It frightened him.

Xander had taken from the conversation that they'd had was that Laslow didn't _need_ sex, per se, to show that he loved someone, but it _certainly did help._

And the way Laslow melted into Xander's strong, waiting arms while Xander mapped his hot mouth with his tongue only confirmed it. Laslow was hungover, or possibly still drunk, if the mention of tequila was anything to go by, but Laslow was ready to _fuck._ No more lazy handjobs, no more grinding like teenagers in Xander's chair. Laslow leapt into Xander's arms, and wrapped his legs around Xander's middle. Xander pinned him to the wall of the study, the stone scraping at Laslow's back as he was pressed into it. Laslow shivered from the cold stone pressing up against his skin, and Xander held him in place with his hips while he worked on getting Laslow's shirt off. Laslow was babbling something filthy and sweet and needy as he tried to grind his hips into Xander's. Xander put Laslow down just long enough to order him to strip. Laslow tore off his clothing with reckless abandon, and Xander picked him back up and pinned him again.

“Ugh, you're wearing too many bloody clothes!” Laslow griped, and Xander undid his trousers and pulled them down, having to shuffle Laslow a little bit skyward to get his buttons out from underneath him. Laslow gasped at the little thrust of Xander's hips that sent him bouncing, and Xander pulled his trousers down around his knees and left them there.

_Gods,_ he was hard. Laslow could feel Xander's cock against him, it was _torture._ “Please...” Laslow pleaded, tangling his hands in Xander's golden hair, “don't torture me.”

“Never, Laslow.” Xander reached into his trouser pocket and pulled out a vial of oil, coating his fingers with it to gently work Laslow open, right there against the wall. At first, Laslow had seized up in sudden shock at the intrusion, but then slowly relaxed as Xander's fingers worked inside him.

“O-oh! Oh, it's been a while... ohhhh, okay..... _mmmmnnnn~!”_ Laslow made all manner of hungry, needy little sounds and noises, his moaning becoming a beautiful symphony to Xander's ears. Laslow suddenly bucked hard and let out a wail. “Right there!” He cried, bucking into Xander's fingers to try and make them hit that spot again. Xander crooked his fingers just right, and Laslow _melted_ in his arms, babbling something in a language Xander couldn't understand. Ylissean, perhaps, or very slurred Feroxi. Laslow's mouth caught Xander's in a sloppy, needful kiss, and Xander reciprocated, caring not that it was mostly teeth and slobber. The sight of Laslow so wracked with the need for _cock_ only spurred him on.

“Fuck...!” Laslow cried, bucking his hips again. “Fucking-- I'm _ready,_ please, just _fuck_ me!”

Xander wasted no time. He pulled his fingers out, slicked up his cock as best he could from the angle he was at, and lowered Laslow down onto it. It was heaven inside of Laslow, his walls slick and hot and squeezing him just right. He stopped at the hilt, letting Laslow adjust to this sensation. Laslow let out a shiver of delight as he felt Xander's hips against him.

Laslow looked down at Xander with love in his eyes. _“Te amo....”_ he murmured. Xander perked up. He remembered the discussion they had a few weeks ago, in which Laslow explained exactly what that phrase meant. Xander smiled. He kissed Laslow, a more tender kiss, less sloppy but no less passionate. And he began to move, thrusting into Laslow at a leisurely pace, before slowly increasing the intensity and speed of each thrust until Laslow was a _mess._ Xander was struck with the powerful, unshakable urge to be the only one to ever see Laslow like this. He idly wondered if Azura had ever seen Laslow quite like this, in the throes of absolute pleasure. He doubted it heavily, and almost felt a little _smug_ that he was the only one to ever see Laslow come _undone_.

Laslow's head was thrown back, his mouth open in a goofy smile. His face was beet red, and the color dusted its way down his chest and shoulders too. Xander ducked his head and took one of Laslow's nipples in his mouth, making Laslow cry out and start babbling in Feroxi again, clutching Xander's head against his chest like Xander's tongue flicking his nipple was the only thing keeping him tethered to this reality. Xander didn't leave the other one bereft either, pinching it between his slick fingers still dripping with oil. Laslow's thighs were trembling, his cock throbbing. Xander's hips were all that was keeping Laslow from falling and hitting his head on the wall. Well, that and the vice-lock grip Laslow's legs had around his waist and the hearty grip around Xander's broad, strong shoulders. Laslow's legs were surprisingly powerful, but then again Xander supposed that was normal for a dancer like Laslow, especially a dancer of Laslow's caliber.

Laslow suddenly _wailed_ in pleasure and came with a start, in thick white ropes of seed, _all over_ Xander's shirt. “Mmph... ohhh... s-sorry.... Ah! That was likely...mmm... expensive....ahh~!”

Xander didn't seem perturbed. Instead, he simply bent Laslow back just a little more, and fucked him with all he had until Laslow bit down on his lip to quiet the _scream_ that ripped from his lungs, and Xander came, long and hard and deep and so very, _very hot._ Laslow could swear he was burning up, filled to the brim with Xander's hot, thick seed. Laslow felt so _full,_ and it felt _wonderful._ He'd been fucked before, filled before, but never like this. Never by someone like Xander. And never by someone he loved.

Laslow came down from what felt like a delirious high, panting and slumping against Xander. He could hardly keep his legs wrapped around Xander any longer. “Xxxxxxanderrrrrr....~!” Laslow breathed, going limp in Xander's arms.

“Did you enjoy yourself, Laslow?”

“Mmmm.... Oh, I could go for a round two! Come on, let's do it again!” Laslow purred deep in his throat, still tugging on Xander's hair. Xander shook Laslow's grip off gently.

“Perhaps a break.” Xander reasoned, letting Laslow down from the wall. He smiled. Laslow pouted. Xander laughed. “I'm ten years older than you, Laslow. I need a break. I'm not so young and full of energy anymore.”

“Gods, but that was the best sex I've ever had. You knew exactly what it was I wanted. A hard, fast, dirty fuck, and you _delivered.”_ Laslow breathed lovingly, his arms still slung lazily around Xander's neck.

A knock sounded at the door, making both men groan in exasperation. “What?!” Xander snapped.

“ _Hey, are you guys done? Prince Leo wants to talk to Lord Xander. He uh.... he looks mad.”_ Peri called through the door.

“Two minutes!” Xander called, and stepped back. “To be continued.” he murmured, kissing Laslow softly.

“I'll hold you to that~” Laslow teased, getting dressed again haphazardly. Xander pulled his pants up and buttoned them properly, and put on a cloak to cover his shirt before going out the door to ask Leo what in the _actual hell he wanted._

Laslow decided to slip into the kitchens and find himself a meal. He was still in a bit of a daze, and ran _right_ into Shigure in the kitchens, who was also trying to find himself some food. Shigure looked _terrible._ Half-dead to the world. He was disheveled, in the same clothes he was wearing the night before, his hair a mess and dark bags under his eyes. His shirt was stained and rumpled. He was hunched over and had clearly just made a morning out of being violently ill, judging from the greenish hue of his sallow cheeks in the torchlight. Laslow guessed he was _very_ hungover from the night before. Shigure landed flat on his ass, grunted out a terse hello, and took the food he'd pilfered from the larder and crawled over to the corner to eat it. The maids and butlers of Castle Krakenburg simply moved around him, having had Laslow and his friends hungover in their larder more than once and being used to at least one person sitting in the corner eating stolen food. At this point, they wrote their inevitable losses from food theft into their budget, and Xander had signed off on said budget, so they were perfectly content to just let Shigure eat.

“I thought I asked Forrest to look after you.” Laslow said suspiciously. “He was meant to feed and hydrate you.”

“He was looking after me, but I sent him away so I could suffer in my misery in peace. I like Forrest, don't get me wrong. He's my cousin and I love him. I just really don't need his.... _happy_ in my ear right now.” Shigure replied. “Never, _ever_ make me drink tequila again.” He growled out his demand. “It's an evil spirit. It has evil inside it.”

“Oh, don't be dramatic. It's not my fault you're a lightweight. Anyway, you've done what I asked, you came out and had a good time with me. Now we have fun the way you have fun.” Laslow said. “When you're feeling up to it, of course.”

“I suspect that will be after the ball. It's now only six days away, and I have to _prepare.”_ Shigure groaned. “I have to run through my final rehearsals with all of my performers. I was supposed to start the final preparations today, but with the way my head feels, I suspect I'll be starting late.”

“Well! You have a lot of work to do, then, eh?” Laslow teased.

“I'm _well aware.”_ Shigure grumbled.

“Don't take attitude with me, boy. I'll smack it right out of you. Anyway, I have to go, Lord Xander is expecting me.”

“I'm _sure_ he is.” Shigure drawled before dropping his head back down and eating his food like a zombie.

Laslow took the food he had pilfered and went to go eat it in Xander's study. Xander was now in what appeared to be a foul mood, doing paperwork. His brow was furrowed deeply and his eyes were narrowed in a hateful stare towards the parchment currently open in front of him. Stupid _paperwork_ and stupid _ink_ and stupid _little brothers...._

“Is this what Lord Leo wanted?” Laslow asked tentatively. Xander was an instinct away from snapping, but managed to compose himself. He took a deep breath and counted to four....five...six... okay.

“......Yes. He's tired of me dumping my paperwork onto him for the past month and is now making me do it all myself. Apparently it's been interfering with time that was supposed to be spent on his wife, or at least that's what he told me.” Xander sighed, signing another document to be decreed into law after his coronation. “I can't say I blame him, but I'll be up all night doing this.”

“You do remember that I can forge your signature, right?” Laslow asked. “If it's just signing things, hand them off to me, love. I may not be able to read in Nohrian but I can figure out where the signature line is. Two heads are better than one and all that.”

“You're a blessing, Laslow. Bless you, truly.” Xander breathed, quickly sorting his papers into things Laslow could do and things he could do. Laslow got to work, signing a pile of documents on the floor. He winced as he sat down-- residual aftereffects from a fantastic round of sex-- but got to work. He signed papers in Lord Xander's name, not even knowing what they were.

Xander smiled softly. He'd slipped a couple of decrees into Laslow's pile that decreed same-sex marriage (and marijuana, through a series of legal loopholes he had Peri proofread ages ago) legal throughout the country. Laslow was none the wiser, as the documents were written in Nohrian and Laslow could not read them. Laslow, humming a tune to himself idly, signed the documents without even trying to decipher them. Xander heard the tell-tale scratch of a quill on parchment, and his heart swelled.

“Laslow?” Xander queried out loud.

“Yes, milord?”

“Would you do me a favor, and sing something? It's far too quiet in here, and your voice is so beautiful.”

“Oh, you flatterer, you. Of course, milord.” _Every night, every day, ten times out of nine, I'm a hand grenade, I don't want to push you away, but I'm warning you babe..._

Xander listened to Laslow singing as he signed paperwork, and just like a record player, when he was done with one song, he went right into another.

_Lover, come over, look what I've done, I been alone so long I feel like I'm on the run...._

Soon, all the paperwork was finished. The moon was high now-- they'd been working for hours. But it was done, and Xander looked over all the documents Laslow had signed one more time. “Good job, Laslow. Thank you for your help. Your uncanny ability to forge signatures is an admittedly useful skill.”

Laslow grinned. “It did come in useful once or twice during the war, yes.”

“Didn't you once forge my signature on a release order and essentially got yourself out of jail one night?” Xander mused.

“Mmmmm, _once._ I did that _once._ In my defense, I don't usually _plan_ to land myself in jail, but that night I had a mission to infiltrate the jail and release a particular political prisoner inside, so I figured the best way to get in was to get arrested, and the best way out would be to have a convenient order of release in my back pocket.” Laslow shrugged. “You remember that mission, you _gave_ it to me. You basically _instructed_ me to get myself arrested.”

“Oh, right.” Xander remembered that detail a little late.

Laslow yawned and stretched his limbs out. “Anyway, I'm tired. Let's go to bed, it's late. Tomorrow we begin the final preparations for the ball and begin receiving the guests.”

“Excellent. Sounds like a wonderful plan. I do so love your plans.” Xander smiled.

“Even when they involve me getting arrested?”

“Especially then.” Xander laughed, and offered his arm. Laslow took it and they traveled to the chambers they now shared. Laslow's belongings were piled up in one corner, organized in wooden crates with labels in Nohrian written in Xander's neat, fastidious handwriting. Laslow hadn't noticed them before. Laslow dug through the boxes until he came up with some clothes for tomorrow and a pair of stretchy sleep trousers for tonight.

“I'll admit, it was a shock to come home drunk and find my entire servants' quarters empty.” Laslow said idly, plucking his armor and sword out of a box. He polished his sword nonchalantly with the edge of his shirt and then plucked up the curved sheath and slid the sword inside.

Laslow's sword was a Nohrian replica of his mother's original sword, that he had taken off of her ruined and bloodied body before escaping the Risen at the age of nine. That original sword had broken in the middle of a battle in Hoshido, and Laslow had been devastated. He had used a regular standard-issue Nohrian silver sword for a while, but it just wasn't the same. It wasn't balanced right for his hand. He found himself clumsy in battle, injuring himself more than the enemy with such a sword. So Xander, seeing what that sword had meant to his retainer, had commissioned an exact replica out of enchanted Nohrian silver. Now, the sword made Laslow stronger and faster in combat, but its flexibility and light weight made it a poor choice to use defensively. _(“Lord Xander, you didn't have to do such a thing for a mere servant like myself.” “Laslow, I know how much value that sword had to you. It was your mother's, and so I commissioned a sword that not only will not break in combat, but will keep her memory alive within you as long as you hold it. And it made you smile. That's all I can ask for. You're my friend, and friends do good deeds for one another.” “Milord, you're really quite a saint.”)_

“I apologize for moving your things without telling you, but I figured it would be a nice surprise.” Xander replied. “I realize I should have told you I was getting rid of your bed. It's simply been relocated to a guest room in the castle, it's not like I threw it away. But don't worry, every single little item and knickknack you owned is accounted for. I made sure. You actually don't have that many belongings. I had Elise help move things, she's always happy to do something productive with her time and she found your hair dye and proceeded to tease you. 'Why would he want to dye his hair gray? Doesn't he know people usually try to avoid gray hairs? What's his real hair color?'” Xander made a pale imitation of Elise, but it was enough to get his point across. Laslow crawled into bed alongside him, and laid his head on Xander's chest.

“Didn't tell her the foreign prince bit, did you?” Laslow asked.

“Noooo. No. You told that to me in confidence. I will never tell a soul of it if that's what you wish.”

“Good. Thank you.”

“Think nothing of it, love. Though I suspect it will come up eventually.”

Laslow fell quiet, and simply listened to Xander's heartbeat against his ear. Xander was alive, so _very alive._ He was here, he was real, and sometimes it still felt like a dream.

“I love you.” Laslow murmured. “So very much, and I want to stay here with you forever.”

“I am glad for this, Laslow. Because I love you too, so very much, and it would absolutely shatter me to have you leave.” Xander replied softly.

Laslow listened to Xander's heartbeat for a few more moments, breathing deeply. He was alive. He had lived to see this moment. And it was such a beautiful moment.

Xander stood tall the day of his coronation, looking out over Nohr with a new era of peace and understanding in his wake. He made a speech that rallied his citizens and his troops, and they hailed his name in a chant that carried almost into Hoshido. Laslow and Peri stood at his sides, as they were both named General under orders of the King. And General Laslow and General Peri looked out over the troops they were given control of. An entire army snapped into a salute, and Laslow and Peri saluted back.

And it was performance time. Laslow's entire set of performers, as well as Shigure's, were preparing last-minute backstage. Shigure was high-key _freaking out,_ breathing heavily into a paper bag while two of his dancers patted him on the back and soothed him with soft words and offers of water. He was terrified of not living up to his mother's legacy, her memory. Not to mention he had anxiety about crowds, and all of the highest nobility in Nohr would be watching him. He feared he would fail his mother, his father, and his entire family. Soleil and Odin were fine-tuning the Autotune spell to sound a little more natural onstage, rather than watery and odd. And Laslow was getting changed into his first costume, a fine dancer's outfit that Forrest had lovingly crafted with only the finest materials. Laslow felt a bit spoiled by such luxury. He wasn't about to complain about it, though.

The entire performance went off without a hitch. It was moving, powerful, beautiful, and perfect. The crowd was in awe. They were expecting some half-rate talent show, not a skilled performance complete with special effects and a trained chorus. Shigure started with a song that would knock Laslow on his arse. “I thought he hated that score...!” Laslow murmured as Shigure began to play a very familiar intro. As the song progressed, it became clear that Shigure had made some changes. The song was now clearly an anthem, something more powerful than Laslow had originally written. Laslow had meant for the song to be sung almost like a lullaby, but Shigure had turned it into an anthem, a song that got people on their feet and into the streets.

_When I was a young boy, my father took me into the city, to see a marching band. He said “Son, when you grow up, will you be the savior of the broken? The beaten and the damned?” He said, “Will you defeat them? Your demons, and all the nonbelievers, the plans that they have made? Because one day, I'll leave you a phantom to lead you in the summer, to join the Black Parade!”_

And Shigure's chorus echoed him. Their voices would carry out as an anthem, centering on Shigure. Their bodies would carry them across the stage and across the very floor itself, dancing their way between tables and seats and down the aisles, and in the middle of it all, Shigure. Shigure, on his pegasus in the music hall, singing his heart out, rising slowly into the rafters. He then dove down, and his entourage caught him and he rode a wave of hands back up to the stage to finish his song.

_Sometimes I get the feeling she's watching over me, and other times I feel like I should go, and through it all, the rise and fall, the bodies in the streets, and when you're gone, we want you all to know... We'll carry on! We'll carry on! And though you're dead and gone, believe me, your memory will carry on! We'll carry on!_

Laslow almost burst into tears backstage. His only son, and he was singing a song that Laslow had written for him. Shigure's second song was the other that Laslow had written, but instead of the orchestral masterpiece Laslow had originally envisioned, Shigure, Soleil, and four of Shigure's Cyrkensian friends sang the song a capella, without music in the background accompanying them. And somehow, the a capella performance was more moving and more powerful than with all those instruments getting in the way. Shigure could hit his highest and strongest notes this way. Laslow was so _proud_. And one of Shigure's singers was somehow able to make the percussion noises with his mouth, which punctuated each score with a beat that the audience could _feel_ in their feet and in their cores. One of the singers had an extremely deep voice, and imitated a double bass the whole time instead of singing. It was an extremely skilled and practiced performance.

_Too late, my time has come, send shivers down my spine, body's aching all the time, goodbye everybody, I've got to go, got to leave you all behind and face the truth, Mama.... ooohh.... I don't wanna die, I sometimes wish I'd never been born at all!_

Laslow was over the moon, and when Shigure and Soleil came backstage after their performance, Laslow had thrown his arms around them both tearfully and insisted that they were the _best fucking children an old scoundrel like me could ever ask for._

Laslow's final performances were here. He danced his heart out, telling a story of war and horror that ended with a song begging the Creator for mercy. First, the song Laslow had sung for Xander weeks ago. _Revere in a million prayers and draw me into your holiness.... but there's nothing there, light only shines from those who share... unleash a million drones, and confide me then erase me, babe!! Do you have no soul? It's like I died long ago...._

With a proper chorus and proper effects, the performance was so much more powerful than Xander had remembered. The choreography was so elaborate and intricate, with each dancer moving and twisting and acting upon one another with clockwork precision. Laslow hadn't been joking when he claimed he had highly trained each and every one of his performers. Laslow's dancing was the most intricate of all, his own body twisting and moving and never stopping for even a moment. What had looked like awkward twitching with one performer had turned into an elaborate act that all made sense now that Xander had put it together.

_You taught me to lie without a trace and to kill with no remorse, on the outside, I'm the greatest guy... now I'm dead inside!_

Second, a set of voices shouted from backstage. One was gruff and loud, commanding and cruel. The other was young, untrained, naive, and in way over his poor little head.

_**If you do not do what you are told to do, when you're told to do it, you will be punished, do you understand?!** Aye, sir! **If you leave my base without proper authorization, I will hunt you down, and throw your ass in jail! Do you understand!** Aye, sir! **I can't hear you!** Aye, sir! **Scream it!** AYE, SIR! **Your ass belongs to me now!** AYE, SIR! _

And then, the music began. A strong almighty song, with a bass that the crowd could feel through the floor and walls. And there was that screeching instrument again, sounding so perfect inside of a song so strong and moving. And as he danced, Laslow burst into ethereal magical flames, and his outfit burned away to reveal a very sexy leather number underneath. It had studs, spikes and a _lot_ of exposed skin. Xander could hear Forrest squeal from his table next to his father. His finest work yet, and it was being displayed for all of Nohr's elite nobility to see and admire. Xander almost choked on his champagne at the sight of Laslow, his face turning bright red. “Wow!” Peri commented idly from Xander's left side, “That's a lot of leather. How'd he even get that outfit on?”

Xander didn't quite care how Laslow managed to get the outfit on. What mattered to him was how long it would take to get it off. And he _will_ get it off.

Laslow had a spiked whip on his hip, and as he sang and danced, the whip was used to create a crackling effect that sent jolts through the audiences' spines. _Love, it will get you nowhere, you are on your own, lost in the wild... so come to me now... I could use someone like you, someone who'll kill on my command... and ask no questions...._ Laslow danced in a sensual and alluring manner, using his whip to snap the air and make the audience jump. Xander was on his third glass of champagne. It wouldn't be his last. His face was burning, trying to keep his composure. He was a King now. He was a _King_ now. He had to keep his composure, even if he wanted to tie Laslow's pretty little hands together behind his back with that damned whip and shove him down on all fours and-- _Gods—DAMMIT._

_**Are you a human drone??** Aye, sir! **Are you a killing machine??** Aye, sir! **I am in control, motherfucker, do you understand??** Aye, sir! _

This is what Laslow meant by 'literal symbolism'. The song was about the rigors of war and being forced to kill to survive, and how horrible it all was. At least, that was Xander's interpretation of it. He could have been totally wrong. Laslow could just be using an anti-war message as an excuse to take his clothes off onstage.

Then, the final song, where Xander had been trained to respond to. He got up from his seat in his private box and traveled down to the main floor, and all of Nohr stared at him in disbelief and confusion until Laslow danced and spun and got closer and closer to the edge and finally, _leapt_ off the stage and into Xander's waiting arms, and Xander danced him around the room to the awe of the audience. Laslow's leather seemed to tear itself to pieces onstage in streaks of purple magic, revealing a white bodysuit and wings seemingly sprouted right from his back. He had been wearing _three_ costumes at once. Forrest was delighted, though also a little annoyed that Laslow had saw fit to _ruin_ one of the costumes to make an effect. Oh well. Forrest had a duplicate, made just for such a catastrophe.

Laslow was an angel, having fallen in war and was begging the gods for mercy. Laslow seemed to glow with pure light, his eyes shining against the torchlight, enchanted to glow purely white in the darkness.

_Mercy! Mercy! Show me mercy from the powers that be! Show me mercy! Could someone rescue me?_

Laslow sang as they danced, and Xander sang along. Laslow's wings almost seemed to flutter, though Xander was sure it was just a trick of the light. ...Wasn't it?

_Show me mercy from the powers that be! Show me mercy from the gutless and mean! Show me mercy from the killing machines! Show me mercy, can someone rescue me?_

Xander had only been told at the last minute that he was even a part of the show. He had run through the blocking and choreography of this final dance with Laslow the _day prior._ Xander had no _idea_ what he was doing. And yet, he was able to move Laslow elegantly, singing along just as elegantly. It was as if Laslow had him under some manner of spell, dancing him across the floor while all the while Nohr's elite nobility looked on with stunned, awestruck faces. Laslow, the angel in his arms. Laslow, the angel of his heart. And Laslow was leading him through the steps, and they spun together, and the orchestra was reaching a dizzying tempo, and then the music _stopped..._ and it was just them in the spotlight, Laslow lifted into his arms in a triumphant final pose, those wings on his back outstretched as if guiding him towards the bright white light above.... and the audience _exploded_ into raucous applause.

“ _All hail! All hail! Long live King Xander! All hail! Long live King Xander!”_

Xander slowly put Laslow down, and the wings on Laslow's back dissolved into nothingness. Turns out they were an illusion cast by Leo, whom had been roped into helping with special effects along with Odin, which was the reason he had been so sour about having Xander's paperwork lumped on him along with everything else he had to do to prepare for the ball.

Laslow and Xander were panting, out of breath, and sweating terribly. They were both a mess, and thankfully the nobility of Nohr was gracious enough to not be paying attention enough to notice the men slipping out the back and to the training grounds showers yet again.

The moon was high over Nohr. Even in Nohr's dusky days, Laslow could tell it was nearing midnight. The ball would likely be going well into the morning hours.

They barely made it to a shower stall and had turned it on before they were all over each other, their mouths colliding in a desperate kiss. “That was _spectacular,_ Laslow, your skill shall be renowned the world over....” Xander praised breathily, and Laslow moaned and squirmed under his touch, turning red in the face. “The most spectacular performance I've ever had the great fortune to witness, t-to be a _part of,_ Gods, you're not _human,_ Laslow.... you are something more, something _divine...._ Gods, you have blessed me on this day.... the day I become King.”

“Oh, Gods, Xander, I dance only for you, it was all for you.... I promised to dance for you if we came out of this unscathed..... oh, and I will dance, I swear to you that, but Gods, take me first. Don't make me wait. I've been waiting all _fucking_ day.”

Xander issued a low groan into Laslow's neck as he bit down, and Laslow cried out rather effeminately and locked his strong legs around Xander's trim waist as his hands tangled in Xander's blond hair.

When they rejoined the festivities, they were both considerably calmer and clearly satisfied, Laslow following closely by Xander's side, almost like a puppy following its master. And when asked how he mustered the courage for such a performance, Laslow would only reply that it was _all for my lord, I would move mountains to please him, he is my master after all, and it's quite literally my job to present Nohr proudly, is it not?_ And Odin and Selena made mock gagging noises behind him the whole night, whilst Laslow pointedly ignored them at every turn.

Leagues of nobles flocked to Forrest to compliment him on his fantastic costuming for the show, and to simply _beg_ him to make them dresses in the newest fashions. Forrest was almost overwhelmed with delight; he'd never imagined his work would be the talk of all of Nohr. He squealed at each request and wrote down each guest's order and measurements to the best of his ability, assuring them they'd be done by the end of the year.

Laslow sat next to Odin and Selena at a table while Xander danced with a few Nohrian noblewomen to be polite. He sank down into a chair with a glass of mulled wine in his hand.

“You look happy.” Selena commented rudely. “Did you smoke a bowl before you came onstage? And you got royally fucked after?”

“You better fucking believe I did. I'm stoned off my socks right now and I can barely feel my legs, and it's how I plan to stay for the night, otherwise my stage fright would have forced me to stay huddled in my dressing room all scared and nervous.” Laslow rolled his eyes. “Can't you just be happy for me? I pulled off an incredible performance up there.”

“I will admit, when you jumped off the stage into Lord Xander's arms I thought for like, half a second that he was gonna fuck up and drop you on your head, and that would have been the funniest thing I'd ever seen in my life, but instead he did it perfectly and that's a little irritating.” Selena said, sipping her drink. “But you did a good job. The audience was really wowed by it. I mean, you're super gross with Lord Xander, sorry--- _his Majesty--”_ she said mockingly, “but I guess I can live with it.”

“You are leaving, aren't you?” Laslow suddenly asked. “I can see it in your eyes.”

“I'd like to, but Lady Camilla doesn't want me to leave, and for some reason....”

“You can't stand the thought of leaving her.” Laslow finished wisely. “You might not love her in the same manner I love Lord Xander, but you do love her.”

“....Yeah. She's like the big sister I never had.” Selena said. “Odin's staying too. He likes working for Lord Leo.”

Odin nodded in the affirmative. “I mean, I'm gonna miss everyone we used to know, but I think Lord Leo will miss me more. And that's just not okay with me.”

“I'm glad. I know we made a pact, but let's just bury those stones somewhere and stay here. It may be dreary but it's our home, now.” Laslow said. “Besides, Lord Xander's a _riot_ in the sack.”

Selena made mock gagging noises. “Yuck. I don't need any details, thanks. I got enough of that when you were with Gerome.”

“Speaking of him, I am very glad I broke up with him. He was a bit violent when he wanted to be.” Laslow said nonchalantly.

“He _hit_ you?” Odin asked, putting his glass down. “I never knew about anything like that. Why didn't you tell me? Did you tell Lucy?”

“Once or twice, he tried. I told him exactly where he could shove it when it happened a third time. He kept trying to swear it would never happen again, but I'm smarter than that. Don't worry, he never _beat_ me, and he respected it when I called things off due to his behavior. And no, I never did tell my sister. I didn't need her burdened by her little brother's romantic woes. She had her own woes to handle.”

“Oh, man, well, now I want to go back just to punch him in the face.” Selena said. “I would, too!”

Shigure walked up.

“Father?”

“Yes, my boy?” Laslow looked up.

“Lord Xander wishes for your presence. Sorry-- _King--_ sorry-- Uncle Xander wants to see you.” Shigure said awkwardly. It seemed he'd accepted one too many mulled wines from noblemen hoping to pry his secrets from him. Shigure had remained resilient, however, and had not given up the names of his entourage. He was swaying slightly.

“Well, best not keep him waiting. Thanks, son. And... sit down, would you? You look like you're about to topple over.” Laslow got up, mulled wine still in hand, and went to Lord Xander's side, where Xander immediately clapped one hand around his shoulders and began showing him off as the _wonderful dancer who taught me, he taught all the talent tonight, he is my pride and joy, my right hand, Laslow._ And the nobles all shook Laslow's hand and congratulated him on a wonderful show. They asked him for an encore, and Laslow perked.

“You would have me perform one last show, my lord?” He asked Xander.

“Of course. I would allow that in a heartbeat.”

“Oh, good. Give me an hour. Shigure! Soleil! Come here, children!”

Laslow ran up to his children, and Xander could see him talking frantically, and Shigure and Soleil nodded their heads. Shigure looked halfway to being drunk, but he nodded his head anyway.

An hour later, they were on the stage along with the two of Shigure's performers who could make the bass and percussion noises with their mouths. The audience watched as they started a powerful a capella performance that rocked the entirety of Nohr's nobility to its core. The spotlight turned on, and there they were, standing straight in formation, and Laslow opened his mouth to begin singing. And soon, the others joined in behind him, an a capella performance that was beautiful in the night.

Without Odin's magic, Soleil's voice was less perfect than it was before, but she was still not terrible. It seems Laslow was underestimating his daughter's talent. She didn't quite sound like her mother, but her voice still carried well and she was passable for a performance. _Passable_ was the operative word. She was not _good._ But it worked for this particular song.

_Hello, darkness, my old friend, I've come to talk with you again, because a vision softly creeping, left its seeds while I was sleeping, and the vision that was planted in my brain, still remains, within the sound of silence....._

_In restless dreams, I walked alone, narrow streets of cobblestone, 'neath the halo of a street lamp, I turned my collar to the cold and damp, when my eyes were stabbed by the flash of a neon light, that split the night, and touched the sound of silence...._

The performance was beautiful, moving, and reached a crescendo strong enough to rock the seats of the front rows; a performance to touch the peoples' very souls. And when Xander began clapping, the rest of the nobility followed suit, and gave them a standing ovation.

Laslow bowed low, and Xander held out his hand to help him down off the stage. The rest of the performers were on their own.

“Thank you, milord.”

It took many more hours of merriment and revelry, but eventually even the nobility exhausted themselves, and everyone retired to their rooms to get some sleep. Laslow had other things on his mind besides sleep, and energy still thrummed in his veins. Here they were, alone, alive and relatively intact. A particularly handsy noblewoman had accidentally torn Laslow's bodysuit when reaching for him, but beyond that, they were fine.

“Stay there.” Laslow said, sitting Xander up in bed. “I have something I want to show you.”

“What is it?” Xander asked, sitting up on his elbows.

Laslow tapped his feet on the floor for a moment. “I promised, my lord, that if we escaped from that wretched ball unscathed, that I would show you the dance my mother taught me. It is a dance I hold most true to my heart, and I shall show you my variation. This is a song from her heart, my lord. The song that keeps me alive, day after day. The song in my heart that leads me to experience music so beautifully. Let me show you, milord. Let me show you my mother's dance.”

And Laslow began to vocalize a beautiful melody, humming and singing each note in perfect pitch as he twirled and jumped and bent in such beautiful ways. And Xander could swear he almost saw an apparition, some sort of ghost from Laslow's past swirling around him. Some swath of pink hair and jingling coins that seemed to spur Laslow on.

And when Laslow finished, throwing himself into the verse he'd choreographed himself, the ending, standing perfectly on his toes in a triumphant stance.

And Xander descended upon him in a flurry of desperate kisses, overwhelmed by such beauty. Laslow almost shrieked and devolved into helpless giggling as Xander's lips tickled his face, his neck, his chest and shoulders. “Did you enjoy my dance, my lord?”

“E-enjoy?....Laslow, you are an angel.” Xander breathed, holding Laslow close to him as if he would disappear if he let go.

“No, milord. My dearly departed Mum is an angel. I am just a man with a song in his heart.”

“And I am just a man with love in mine.” Xander replied, clutching Laslow just a little bit tighter. And like that they would stay, wrapped up in each other's arms, well into the next morning.

When they awoke, it was together. When they stepped out into the throne room, and Xander took his place on Nohr's iron throne, Laslow was by his side. And when Xander decreed his new laws to take effect immediately, Laslow's heart swelled. Because, my dear, what Xander didn't know was that Laslow had been up late in libraries and studies for many a sleepless night, and had learned Nohrian behind Xander's back. Laslow knew exactly what he was signing that day, and he did so happily. Tomorrow, Laslow would not wake up as Xander's retainer, but as his royal consort. Laslow looked towards the beautiful starry Nohrian sky. 

_Thank you..._

And he swore he saw Azura smile down at him from the moon, and his heart lifted. He took a deep, cleansing breath in, and let go of all the anger and the fear and the suffering that he had been carrying on his back for so long, and he finally, after all those years, felt free. 


End file.
